


the bet

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I mean the name of it, M/M, University AU, all the tropes and cliches of the world, complete self indulgence, don’t even read it if you don’t want to cringe a thousand times a minutes, have you ever seen anything more wattpad, in one fic, this is like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Dele fucking hates rich entitled jocks who think they rule the world. It’s unfortunate that Eric Dier, who is undoubtedly a complete snack, happens to be one of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self indulgent thing I’ve ever done in my LIFE and I can’t promise you it won’t be the worst thing you’ve ever read but here we go anyway. 
> 
> This is dedicated to the girls of the spurs men’s second team. You know who you are x
> 
> Ps. This is a working title!

It was 8:45 in the morning, and Dele was walking alongside coffee fuelled students on their way to early morning classes with a scowl on his face and his arms folded across his chest. He was exhausted and he couldn’t understand the chirpy chatter taking place around him, the early morning bright eyed bushy tailed excitement of his fellow classmates. Girls clutching coffee cups and boys prancing around in joggers as if they’d already been up and worked out, wholesome and ready for the front pages of a prospectus. 

Dele pointedly attempted not to make eye contact, weaving in and out of the throng of people carefully, his balance a bit off and his eyes dry with lack of sleep. The morning was bitter and he pulled his sleeves down over his hands, dreaming of his bed and his duvet and his big fluffy pillows and - 

“Del! Are you on the way to sociology?” 

Dele froze. He turned around slowly, looking at the person who’d stopped to talk to him with a furious stare. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name exactly - Henry? Harvey? Whoever he was, he was the biggest twink Dele had ever seen, and his levels of energy for this time of the morning were nothing short of infuriating. 

“No. I’m going home,” Dele mumbled, nodding in the direction of the student accommodation buildings. “Been out all night, haven’t I.” 

Twinky looked at him like he’d just said something scandalous. “But it’s marked attendance - “ 

“I’ll tell em I had a dentist appointment. Have fun, yeah?” 

Dele ignored the guy’s little squeak and pushed on against the cold morning air. He was still drunk, the comedown effects of some powder Tripps had given him beginning to set in. He’d lost the lads somewhere around the 6am mark but he’d kept dancing nonetheless, fully aware that this underground rave was a once a year event only. He didn’t want to waste it. 

So he’d stayed until the effects of the drugs had started wearing off and his feet began to hurt and his bed started calling him. Dele took the earliest bus back to campus, avoiding eye contact with normal people on their way to work. 

Dele pushed open the door to his halls, creeping past the RA office and taking the steps two at a time to the third floor. He took out his key and opened his bedroom door, sighing into the musky darkness. He toed off his shoes, pulled off his clothes, and collapsed onto the mattress. 

— 

“Get up, you fuckin waster.” 

Dele felt something soft thud against his head and he groaned, hangover rolling in his stomach. “How the fuck did you get in?” He croaked, turning over in bed. “Time’s it?” 

“It’s two in the afternoon and we’ve got a seminar to go to. Get the fuck up!” 

Dele looked at his best friend in the whole entire world - been together since they were kids, done it all side by side, the only family he’d ever really known - and had never wanted to punch him in the throat more. Harry Hickford, ladies and gentleman. Professional headache. 

“Once again, how did you get in here?” 

“Door was open,” Harry shrugged, sitting down in Dele’s desk chair and propping a foot up against the wall. “Stinks in here.” 

“Where did yous go to last night?” Dele asked, sitting up properly and reaching for his phone. 

“Tripps hit a whitey and we went for a scran. Tried phoning you but you didn’t have signal in the warehouse.” 

Dele grunted his acknowledgement as he rewatched his Instagram story. It was mainly just thumping base and flashing lights, one photo of Dele and Harry in the smoking area that had to be deleted immediately - both of them looked ridiculously out of it. 

“C’mon, Del. Class starts in ten,” Harry said, standing up and stretching. Van Dick Head will fucking kick off if we miss it again.” 

Dele groaned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I haven’t even done the fucking readings!” 

“Just bullshit it! Come the fuck on.” Harry threw Dele’s jumper at him from the floor. “I’m going downstairs to have a fag. Meet me in five.” 

Dele watched as Harry left, the door closing with a bang. He contemplated just going back to sleep but he knew Harry was right - he’d get bollocked if he missed another class, and he couldn’t afford to miss any credits this year. Dele pulled on the same clothes he’d worn the night before, grabbed his notepad and a pen from off his desk, sprayed himself with a bit of Lynx and headed out after his best friend. 

— 

The class was as brutal as Dele had imagined it would be. Just because he was physically in the class didn’t mean he had a clue what anyone was talking about, and when Professor Van Dijk called on him to explain whether Jus Post Bellum had been applied in any of the UK’s last three wars he’d stared blankly and earned himself a humiliating reprimand. 

“If you cant prepare for my classes, please don’t bother showing up,” the professor snapped, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s a waste of both mine and your classmates’s time.” 

Dele mumbled out an apology, kicking Harry under the desk for laughing behind his hand. The other students were glaring at Dele and he glared right back, resenting every single one of them. Being a student was lost on these people, Jesus Christ - you weren’t supposed to spend all your time slaving over books at uni. You were supposed to enjoy yourself! Boring bastards. 

The minute class was over Dele was up and out, not waiting behind to be told off yet again. Harry was cackling behind him, voice like nails down a chalkboard. 

“Fuck off,” Dele hissed, his stomach rumbling. “How am I supposed to know about the UK’s stupid fucking wars? I’m a pacifist.” 

“Whatever,” Harry laughed, lighting up a cigarette. “Oh, Del - party tonight. House party. Coming?” 

Dele looked at Harry suspiciously. “House party? So it’s off campus?” 

“Obviously.” 

“So it’s a frat party?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “We don’t have any fucking frats - “ 

“You know what I mean though, Harry. If it’s those fucking wannabe jocks then I’m not going.” 

“Aw come on. You don’t need to speak to them! Everyone’s going. You’ll be the only sad bastard sat in his room wanking on his own.” 

“Usually wank in company, do you?” 

“Just stop being such a twat and come to the party.” 

Dele knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the prospect of a party, even if it was being hosted by the worst fuckers known to man. He rolled his eyes right back at Harry and sighed. “Fine. But I’m not staying long, and I’m not socialising with the all the dickheads.” 

“Uh huh. Catch you later, Del!” 

— 

Dele felt better after he’d eaten and had a long shower, the grime of the last 24 hours washed away along with his hangover. Harry had texted Dele that they’d leave at 11:15, suitably late, and Dele had sent a skull emoji in response. 

He walked over to the frat house with Harry and Tripps and their friend Jesse, who never seemed to shut up. They passed a bottle of vodka between them on the way there, bitching about essays and uni life. Jesse was about the only person who was even less suited to higher education than Dele, and the pair of them lamented the struggles of referencing all the way to the party. 

When they arrived at the house Dele couldn’t help but groan. The sound of Toxic by Britney was thumping out of the open door, people milling in and out with bottles in hand. Dele was about as gay as they came, so it wasn’t that he resented Britney Spears - it was that any self respecting house party should never, not ever, be playing noughties pop. It was just cringeworthy. 

“I can’t do this,” Dele groaned, stopping still in the middle of the path. “They’re playing Britney!” 

“Get inside,” laughed Jesse, pushing Dele the rest of the way into the front garden. “Stop moaning for five fucking minutes.” 

The house was packed. There were people Dele knew and people he didn’t, all of them some degree of drunk. Dele and Jesse followed Harry and Tripps into the living room, greeting some of the other lads they knew amiably. Dele collapsed down onto a spare section of sofa, catching a can of beer one of them threw at him. Music aside, the party seemed alright - as long as he didn’t bump into any of the fucking footie lads, he might even enjoy himself. 

— 

Dele was shit hot at beer pong. He and Jesse kept winning round after round, sinking the balls effortlessly and letting their celebratory handshakes get more inventive with every game. 

After their sixth round which ended with Trippier and Harry accusing Jesse of cheating, Dele excused himself to go and pee. He milled through the bodies, spotting that twinky guy from this morning and ducking out of his line of sight, finding his way to the downstairs bathroom. The inside of it was worse than you’d expect, even for a party of this size, and Dele handled the taps and toilet flusher with a bit of loo roll wrapped around his fingers. He finished up as quickly as he could and darted out of the grimy little room, bumping into Jesse out in the corridor. 

“Need to restock the tinnies for the beer pong,” Jesse explained, nodding his head back towards the room they’d just left. “Apparently there’s tonnes in the kitchen.” 

Dele followed Jesse down the hall towards the kitchen. He was so busy staring at a couple necking on violently in the door frame that he didn’t notice who was occupying the kitchen until it was too late. Standing around and observing Dele and Jesse like they were a disease were half of the members of the university Football club. 

They were all huge, Dele noted. He himself was tall but these guys were built, stacked with muscle and imposing in their demeanour. Dele’s eyes flickered across the room, taking in the sight of the now silent men. They were all fairly good looking, which Dele resented, but there was one in particular that made his stomach flip. Dele knew that the captain was a decent looking guy who’s last name was Dier, but he’d never seen him up close before, and - oh. Oh, dear. 

“Heard there’s spare booze going in here?” Jesse said suddenly, interrupting the awkward silence. 

“Some in the fridge,” one guy mumbled, nodding towards an old looking white fridge freezer. 

“Cheers,” Jesse said pleasantly, wandering over and opening the door. 

Dele stayed where he was, staring coldly at the lads. Most of them were returning the glare, but the big handsome one was looking at him... differently. Dele rolled his head on his neck a bit, tingle of electricity licking down his spine. Show time. 

“So what’s this? Troy Bolton and the wildcats?” 

The lads just looked at him, one or two of them snorting. Jesse turned around and glared at Dele but he took no notice, staring at his audience, willing a reaction. 

“Troy Bolton plays basketball,” one of them, a blonde guy, said. “We play football.” 

Dele raised his eyebrows and sucked on his teeth. “Oh yeah? I thought I was looking at the ladies netball team. You’ll have to excuse me.” 

“Fuck off,” another one retaliated. 

“What you gonna do, Tommy Shelby, take my eyes out?” 

“You’re a right little bitch, aren’t you?” Tommy said nastily, and Dele grinned. He could fight like this for fucking hours. 

He opened his mouth to respond but Dier beat him to it, his eyes boring into Dele’s intensely. “Leave it, Stonesy. He’s just trying to get a rise.” 

Dele narrowed his eyes at Dier. God, he was fucking sexy - he was wearing a big expensive watch, a pair of fucking boat shoes, christ. Dele could see that he had abs for days under his stupid white T-shirt. He wanted to bite down on them. 

“Yeah, Stonesy. Listen to the boss.” 

Jesse had joined Dele again, standing at his side with an armful of beer and looking nervously from Dele to the footballers and back. 

“What do you study?” Eric asked, tipping his chin upwards at Dele. “How to be a cunt for dummies?” 

Dele had to bite his tongue so as not to laugh. “No, no. I do politics and sociology, but I know those are big words for a PE student. It’s basically the study of - “ 

“I know what that means,” Eric interrupted, face tinting pink. “And I don’t study PE.” 

Dele stared at Eric and Eric stared back, and Dele felt his cock stirring in his pants. Eventually Jesse nudged him and mumbled that he was taking the beer back to the living room, leaving Dele and Eric to their fully charged staring contest. 

“So you know about politics, do you?” Dele said eventually, hip resting against the counter. Most of the other lads had turned away, distracted or bored, but Eric was still gazing at him intently. “Who’s the Prime Minister?” 

It was Eric’s turn to laugh. “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” 

“Teresa May,” Eric answered, no longer laughing. “What’s the greatest issue of our generation?” 

“Climate change,” Dele replied without skipping a beat. “Easy.” 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Climate change looms over us but poverty and war are happening right now - “ 

“Poverty and war has been happening for millennia. That doesn’t jeopardise our race, meat head.” 

Eric’s eyes were shining and he licked at his lips. “Tell that to the refugee crisis, tell that to the people starving to death in Venezuela.” 

Dele couldn’t think of an argument against Eric’s point - mainly because he was a bit drunk, a little bit because the way Eric’s tongue was licking at the corner of his mouth was distracting. Dele decided in that moment that he absolutely, without a doubt, fucking hated him. However sexy he was, he was a twat, and Dele hated him. 

“Whatever,” Dele answered nonchalantly, turning around like he couldn’t care less. “Not wasting my time debating a fucking PE student.” 

Dele could feel Eric’s eyes on him as he walked away, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, pulling them tighter over his backside. 

 

The boys were back to their beer pong game when Dele rejoined them. Jesse and Trippier were being destroyed by a pair of girls who had clearly hustled them with the girly girl act. Dele sat down heavily next to Harry, chewing on his thumb nail. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked him, putting a steadying hand on Dele’s jumping knee. 

Dele shrugged. “Nothing.” Harry turned back to the game, whooping when one of the girls sank her ball right into the last of Jesse and Kieran’s red cups. “That dick head, the one who does the football. The captain guy.” 

Harry looked at Dele again. “The rich one?” 

“I dunno how much money he’s got. Yeah? I guess he is.” 

“What about him?” 

“You ever met him?” 

Harry shrugged. “Seen him about. Looks like a stuck up twat.” 

“He is,” Dele hissed, his knee jumping again. “Just fucking started on me in the kitchen and accused me of being racist because I don’t care about the refugee crisis.” 

Harry scoffed, frowned at Dele. “How can you be - “ 

“Don’t,” Dele shook his head, switching to his left thumbnail. “People like him are the scum of the earth, man. Fucking Tories.” 

“Want me to go and square up?” 

Dele shook his head. “Nah. Not worth it.” 

“Seen him around with his bird, they think they’re the king and queen of the uni. Should try and shag her for revenge.” 

Dele frowned then, whacking Harry gently on the arm. “We don’t use women as pawns, Harry, c’mon now.” 

“Whatever. Should shag him, maybe he’d be less uptight.” 

“Ha. He’s straight as fuck, and even if he wasn’t, he’s so uptight he’d never go for it.” 

“Bet you could do it though.” 

Dele looked at Harry, his eyes shining. “Do you actually?” 

“Actually what?” 

“Actually bet me? Two hundred quid says I can fuck him by the end of exams.” 

Harry grinned at Dele, shaking his head. “No way. No way, c’mon...” 

“Seriously. I’m serious!” 

Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at the game of beer pong, sighing and then turning once again to his best friend. “Alright. You’re on. I need a new pair of trainers anyways.” 

They shook on it. Dele’s stomach was turning, his heart thumping. This was going to be so, so good. 

“Lads - wanna get out of here? My friend can get us into cab vol tonight for free if we go before one,” asked Trippier, bored of the game now. 

“Fuck yeah,” Harry said, getting up and pulling Dele to his feet. “This is shit anyway. I’ve got some pills in the flat.” 

Dele smiled, energy swirling round his body. He could come up with a plan, but first - he would go with his best friends, he’d get royally fucked up, and he just wouldn’t care. 

“Let’s go, boys. The games begin tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing AUs is so tough for me and i feel like im walking blind through a maze and this makes no sense and things are Off but things should begin to heat up from the next chapter. bear with me! also, to everyone who commented and left kudos - love love love you xxxx
> 
> ps. dont expect future updates to be as rapid as this one - i just had a lot of free time this weekend. Once a week is more realistic!

Dele was too hungover the following day for the games to begin, but the day after that, well - it was all systems go. 

He woke up with a metaphorical lightbulb over his head. Plans just came to Dele, full formed and without requiring much thought. It was his talent, his secret forte - and this one was genius. Dele jumped out of bed and pulled on some shorts that he was sure actually belonged to him. He was going to forgo a shirt, let his body do the talking, but he didn’t want to be cocky about it so he tugged a white t-shirt over his head that didn’t smell too bad and bounced out the door. 

Dele stopped at Sainsbury’s on his way over to the sports fields, picking up a yellow innocent smoothie and a banana. The smoothie was expensive as fuck but he needed the nutrients, especially after the escapades of his last 72 hours. Dele chugged it whilst he walked, bobbing his head to the music playing in his ears. It was a nice day, the sun overhead and not a cloud in the sky, and Dele knew he should be hitting the books and finishing some essay or other, but. There were more pressing matters at hand. 

When he got down to the sports fields he could see that the footie lads were already out running drills on the pitch. Dele paused to watch them for a few moments whilst he finished his breakfast. His eyes picked Dier out of the bunch pretty easily - he was probably the tallest there, and even from a distance it was clear that he was in charge. He exuded dominance and control, and Dele kind of hated it. It was exactly the sort of entitlement rich white boys usually had, built upon a lifetime of being told the world was theirs for the taking. He was the kind of guy who would grow up to manage hedge funds or become the Prime Minister or play for fucking England whilst Dele would be lucky to get a job teaching in a good school. The difference in their trajectories was disarming. Dele watched the guy perform a two foot tackle and gave a low whistle, his head shaking gently. 

God, the guy was such a prick. 

Dele dragged his attention away from the pitch to the sidelines, which was where he needed to be. There, doing drills of their own, was the university cheer squad. 

Dele could dance when he wanted to, and he was tall and good looking and knew that cheer squad was a perfect way to get close enough to Dier to complete his mission. Dele sauntered up to the edge of the group, watching as they tossed a couple of girls into the air, landing safely in the arms of their teammates in a feat of acrobatics. Dele gave a slow clap, grinning at the cheerleaders with his most affecting smile. 

“Impressive, I have to admit. How do I sign up?”

One of the girls scoffed at him, wandering over with a look of disgust on her face. 

“We aren’t open to sign ups,” she said like she was bored. “And this is a closed practice.”

“Oh. I mean, yeah, it’s late in the semester. But do you not need - “ 

“Not interested,” she said again, turning her back on him and walking away. “Sorry.” 

Dele scowled, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to take no for an answer. I need to be on the - “ 

“We’re looking for a stand in mascot?” another girl said, trying not to laugh. “You’d be good at that, I bet.” 

“Piss off,” Dele muttered, already giving up. “Don’t care. I wouldn’t want to be a fucking professional fan girl anyway.” 

“I mean, we compete in our own competitions and nothing we do revolves around male sports but go off, you’re really selling yourself,” another girl said, and Dele felt himself go red. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to see the boys beginning to filter off the pitch. “Too busy for this anyway.” 

He watched Dier hang back to have a few words with the coach, nodding his big dumb head and rolling his big dumb shoulder blades. Dele wasn’t sure what his next plan of action was, wasn’t sure how he should go about this anymore, but he couldn’t let another day pass without any progress, so when Dier himself headed off in the direction of the changing rooms Dele darted after him, vaulting over the wall past the cheerleaders, jogging over the pitch. 

The changing rooms stank of sweat and grass and Dele’s nose wrinkled of its own accord. He stomped through the room past players who either paid him no mind or gawped at him in confusion, all the way through to the back of the building where Dier was peeling off his shirt. Dele braced himself, and marched up with his hands on his hips. 

“I left my wallet at your party and I want it back.” 

Dier, that guy who’d been referred to the other night as Stonesy and another tall built lad turned to look at Dele like he was a walking talking pile of human faeces. 

“Excuse me?” Dier said, looking Dele up and down. 

Dele dragged his eyes away from Dier’s chest, which was every bit as muscly as he’d imagined it would be, and narrowed his eyes. “I think you’ve got my wallet and I want it back, or I’m calling the police.”

Stonesy laughed and turned back to what he was doing, clearly unimpressed. Dier was looking at Dele like he hated him, and Dele would be lying if he said it wasn’t a turn on. 

“Okay. Call the police, then. I’ve not got your wallet and nothing was found. And - why are you in here?” 

“I will, I’ll contact uni security. I know what frat boys like you do with things people leave behind, don’t think I don’t -”

“Frat boys?” the third guy scoffed, his face breaking out in a laugh. “Did you just call us frat boys?” 

“Yeah. That’s what you are.” 

“This isn’t California. And Eric’s telling the truth, none of us have your wallet.” 

“Who asked you?” Dele snapped, glaring at the guy. 

“Thanks, Marcus. Listen, bud - what’s your name? Is it Harry?” Eric asked, holding out his hands between Dele and the other footballer. 

“It’s Dele.” 

“Alright, Dele - you’re actually not supposed to be in here. And I’m not sure why you are. If you’ve got a problem, please, by all means, contact the police, but I’m willing to bet you lost your wallet when you were fucked out your face on drugs, not at our party.” 

Dele’s mouth dropped open, the insinuation making him instantly livid. “Fuck you,” he hissed, about to turn and leave when the third guy spoke again. 

“Hold on - where’s your friend? The little one?” 

Dele looked at the guy like he was crazy. “Trippier?!” 

“I dunno, the one who was getting the beer at the party?” 

“Jesse?” 

“Yeah. Where’s he?” 

“None of your business,” Dele grumbled, turning properly and stomping right back out. 

It wasn’t until some minutes later, after Dele had calmed down a bit and got a significant distance between himself and all the horrible sports people, that he had his next genius idea. 

\-- 

“I’m not doing that.” 

“Please, Jess,” Dele stage whispered, earning himself a pointed stare from the girl at the desk next to Jesse’s. “He’s fit! Please, for me. Do it for me?” 

“I don’t need a boyfriend, Del! I’ve got enough on me plate as it is. I’m barely keeping on top of this uni work, I haven’t got -”

“No one’s telling you to be his boyfriend! Just shag him or something, just - I need an excuse to hang around there a bit. Just to win this bet. Pleaaaase, Lingard, I’m begging you.” 

Jesse sighed and shook his head. “Buy me a dominoes tonight and I’ll do it.” 

Dele’s eyes lit up. “Jesse, I fucking love you!” 

“Uh huh. You owe me one!” 

“Shhh!” hissed the girl at the next desk, and Dele and Jesse looked at her apologetically. 

“Okay. Come over tonight, I’ll order pizza, and we’ll plan.”

“Fine,” Jesse sighed. “Now go and finish your essay!” 

 

\-- 

Dele and Jesse’s plan was simple - go to the next football game, hang around afterwards. See if Marcus asked Jesse to come back to the house with him, have Jesse say yeah - but only if my friends can come. It was foolproof. 

The next football game was that weekend, and Dele, Jesse, Harry and Kieran trecked down to the sports complex with tins of beer in their hands and an ominous sense of anticipation in the air. Jesse was all nervous and jittery, and Dele felt a little bit bad, a little bit like he was pimping Jesse out. But he needed the assist here, he really did - Jesse wouldn’t have to do anything he really didn’t want to. 

They arrived at the uni pitch just as the sun was going down, taking their seats in the home stand and settling in. They all liked football enough, they all had their teams and knew the rules and all the rest of it. Sometimes when they had a kickabout down the commons they were actually quite good at it. In another life, maybe they’d all have been in this team, too. As it was they were in the stands - but it didn’t matter. They were happy to sit back and watch. The stands were pretty packed, much to Dele’s surprise. He didn’t think people actually went to these things, didn’t think anyone really cared, but people were here in the uni colours, chattering enthusiastically and partaking in bloody Mexican waves and everything. It was like a whole new world that Dele didn’t even know existed. 

After a while the teams filed out onto the pitch, stretching and doing warmups. The cheerleaders and the mascot were out too and Dele shot them daggers before dragging his eyes away and focusing on his target. Dier was jogging around with his features set low, clearly gearing up for battle. His blonde hair was flopping about with his movements and Dele decided that he resembled some sort of disney prince. He wondered how soft that hair was, and he wondered if the curtains matched the drapes. Harry nudged him and his train of thought was lost. 

“He’s fit, the captain,” Harry said with a grin, nodding down at Dier. “I’m wondering if this is a win win for you.” 

Dele shrugged. “Not my type, but I’d do it for the sake of getting one over on rich white boys everywhere.” 

“I’m a rich white boy.” 

“Yeah but you’re sound,” Dele laughed, nudging Harry in the ribs. “You don’t think the world owes you something just because you exist.” 

Dele looked again at Dier. He was bending over, stretching out his hamstrings. Dele was thinking that it’d be an added bonus if, during the sex, he could cause some lasting damage to those muscles and destroy his football career, when Dier straightened up and peered into the stands, his eyes squinting with the effort. He seemed to be looking right at Dele, and Dele’s stomach flipped. Dier waved, his face breaking out into a warm smile. It made Dele’s face grow hot, unable to keep from blushing - this was a bit forward, they’d only spoken twice, but it confirmed what he already knew - Dier fancied him. Dele raised his hand and waved back, a tiny gesture, but a wave all the same, but Harry grabbed his hand, pulling it down instantly.

“He’s waving at his fucking bird, Del!” Harry hissed. 

“W-what?” Dele stuttered, turning around and following Harry’s line of sight. There, indeed, was a girl, standing up and bouncing on the balls of her feet, waving down at the pitch with a smile so big it was making her eyes crinkle. She was pretty and short, with long blonde hair and a uni football jersey on. Dele would bet it had Eric’s number on the back. He grimaced and turned around, praying no one else had seen that. “I was just - I’m trying to get in there, like, with the bet -” 

“Sure, Del,” Harry laughed, patting Dele on the thigh. “God, you’re an idiot sometimes.” 

Dele said nothing, settling down in his seat and pulling his jumper up over half his face. This bet was going to be the death of him. 

\-- 

The Pythons, as their university team were affectionately known, won by two to one. The stands erupted as the full time whistle blew, and Dele yanked Jesse out of his seat, pulling him down towards the sidelines. 

The footballers were celebrating in a huddle in the middle of the pitch. Dele and Jesse watched on as they hugged each other, wiping sweat from their brows and beaming happily. Dele shoved his hands in his pockets and looked on as if he was bored, schooling his features into a mask of nonchalance. Jesse was fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, looking from the pitch to Dele and back again. 

“I dont know, Del... what if he thinks this is weird? What if you - are you sure he fancies us?” 

“Shut up,” Dele hissed, motioning at Marcus to come over with a tilt of his head. “He’s coming. Smile nicely.” 

“Alright?” Marcus asked as he jogged over, sweaty and out of breath. 

“This the friend you were asking about?” Dele asked, earning himself an elbow from Jesse and making Marcus flush bright red. 

“I uh - yeah? Hi,” Marcus said to Jesse. “I’m Marcus. I saw you at the party the other night. Getting the beer?”

“Yeah, that was me. Nice game, that. You been playing long?”

“Since I was tiny, yeah. Had some trials at United a few years ago but I fucked my knee so I couldn’t go. Still, fun playing here and that. Do you play?”

“Yeah, I used to -”

“Why don’t we finish this conversation later on? We could come over?” Dele interrupted. He didn’t have time for tact, his eyes following Dier as he made his way down the tunnel. 

“I dunno... we’ve got essays and stuff, the boys would kill me if I had randoms over -” 

“C’mon, we won’t stay long, will we Jess?”

Jesse looked extremely uncomfortable, and Dele glared at him, willing him not to blow it. 

“Only if it’s okay with Marcus,” Jesse mumbled. Dele was going to kill him. 

“Alright, okay. Just the two of you, yeah?”

“Yeah, course. We’ll see you there!”

\-- 

Dele, Jesse, Harry and Kieran rocked up to the house an hour later. Marcus’s face dropped when he saw the four of them standing on the doorstep, but Dele didn’t give him a chance to complain, barreling into the house and looking around for his target. The house looked different when it wasn’t packed to the rafters with party goers. It was no longer a disgusting hellhole splattered with beer and sticky red liquor, but a normal student house - posters on the walls, mismatched furniture, an England flag strung up over the fireplace. Dele wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. He made his way through to the kitchen where he found Stones and another guy, Dele was sure the back of his shirt had said Kane during the game, sitting on their laptops at the kitchen table. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Stones asked, looking at Dele like he was hallucinating. 

“Marcus invited us over,” Dele said absently, peering around the corner into the laundry room. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Who? And why - Rashy?! Come here!” 

Marcus came trotting in obediently, a look of worry on his face. “Yeah?”

“Fuck’s this?”

“Well I invited - after the game, I invited Jesse over, you know the guy I told you about - and they all showed up, so - I’m sorry, I didn’t know -”

“Shut up! You invited me too!” Dele exclaimed, frowning at Marcus. “And how could we bump our pals?”

“You should go,” Kane said, closing over his laptop. “We’ve all got stuff to be doing and it’s -” 

“But we just got here,” Dele said, folding his arms. “Any of you play Fortnite?”

The two boys at the table sighed and looked at each other, considering it. “Fine. One game. Just because I want to beat you,” Stones said, getting up from the table and cracking his knuckles. “Make us a cuppa would you, H?”

“I’ll have one too, if they’re going. Milk and two, mate!”

Dele bounced out of the kitchen before Kane could protest and sat down in the living room, right between Harry and Kieran. Stones came in shortly after and booted up the PlayStation. Dele introduced him to his two friends, and soon Kane came in with a tray of teacups, handing a large Sports Direct one to Dele. It was a good cup of tea and Dele felt warm as he drank it, playing furiously against Stones, pleased to find that he wasn’t as much of a twat as Dele had previously thought. Jesse and Marcus were in the kitchen chattering quietly, and Tripps and Kane had hit it off too, discovering that they both studied biology but had never previously met. The only thing missing was Dier. 

Two rounds later it was getting late and things were winding down. Dele was beginning to feel anxious, like his chances were growing few and far between. He looked around the room again, his hands twisting together nervously. The lads were getting on like a house on fire and Dele felt out of place. This had been a fucking waste of time, clearly - Jesse and Marcus were getting along well, which was good, and Dele had made a connection with Stones and Kane, even if they weren’t his usual sort of people, but that wasn’t why he was here. That wasn’t the purpose of this - 

“I’m fucking sick of hearing this!” Came a female voice from the up the stairs. Dele looked around confusedly, and Stones and Kane sighed. “I cannot deal with this, Eric. You need to decide. You need to make up your fucking mind!” 

“How do you expect me to decide something like this overnight, Emily?”

“If you loved me then you’d say yes!” 

Stones let out a low whistle at the same time as Dier and his girlfriend thundered down the stairs, her pulling on her coat, him in a pair of joggers and nothing else. Dele watched the flash of them on the stairs, blonde hair and skin and giving off more tense energy than he’d ever experienced in his life. 

“Fine. Run away then, like always!” Dier shouted as the front door slammed shut. 

Everyone in the living room was silent, staring at the walls or at their feet. Dele usually loved drama but this was too much, too awkward, and he wanted the sofa to swallow him up when Eric walked into the living room and froze, looking around furiously. 

“The fuck’s all this?!” 

“Marcus invited them!” Squeaked Kane. 

“Well Marcus can just uninvite them? Like, get out of my house, please?” 

Harry and Tripps stood up, clearly feeling very awkward. “We were off anyway,” Harry mumbled, edging past Dier and calling down the hall. “Jess! We’re off!” 

“Fucking inviting randoms on a Sunday night? Has he lost the plot?” Eric muttered nastily. It made fury curl in Dele’s chest. 

“Don’t take your domestic out on everyone else,” Dele said flatly, deciding he’d had enough. 

Eric turned his eyes on Dele for the first time since he’d walked into the room, and Dele had to swallow down a squeak. Eric was fit when he was angry and right then his eyes were blazing, his jaw clenching and unclenching on a bite. 

“Who the fuck asked you?” 

“You’re being a total dick head -” 

“No, really, who the fuck asked you? Why are you even here? No one fucking likes you, mate.” 

Eric’s words were dripping with disgust and it made Dele feel small, embarrassed. There was a verbal spar and then there was this, raw hatred and dislike turned on him in a room full of people, already on the back foot because of the fact that this was not his home, he shouldn’t even have been there - because his friends knew he was trying to fuck Dier and the guy clearly hated him. He opened his mouth to reply and decided better of it. Nothing he could think of saying would one up the humiliating blow Dier had just dealt. Instead he looked him up and down, sucking on his teeth, and let out a quiet laugh. 

“Thanks for the game and the cuppa, lads. See you around.” Dele and Tripps followed Harry, snaking around Eric’s hulking frame in the doorway and meeting a happy looking Jesse in the corridor. 

They left unceremoniously, all quiet for a few seconds until Jesse broke the silence. 

“I think I’m in love.” 

“Good for you,” Dele muttered, pushing on ahead of the group. He just wanted to go home, have a wank, go the fuck to sleep. God, this guy was such a humongous cunt. He should call off the bet now, he knew Harry wouldn’t mind. Not after witnessing that. 

“Really, he’s - Marcus, he’s - we’re going for drinks tomorrow night,” Jesse gushed. Trippier patted Jesse on the back, smiling at him, uttering words of encouragement, and Dele couldn’t stand it. 

“I don’t want to hear about your fantastic fucking love life,” Dele barked. “Seriously. Can we not? Not right now?” 

He felt bad when Jesse’s face fell, a bit of his happiness dissipating, going away. Fuck, this wasn’t right, wasn’t how things were supposed to have gone. He should be happy for Jesse, happy that this part of his plan had worked out at least. Christ, he was a shit person, a true fucking dick head - 

“C’mon lads. Dele’s on his fucking period and he’s got that essay to finish anyway. Let’s go down the union,” Harry said, putting an arm around Jesse’s shoulders and pulling him off with a look of disgust thrown Dele’s way. 

Dele watched them leave with a feeling of guilt suffocating him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone was giving Dele the cold shoulder after his outburst, and he lasted all of 16 hours before he couldn’t stand it any longer, dragging his feet off to Jesse’s flat. He knocked on the door with a Millie’s Cookie in his arms that he’d made the sales girl write “Sorry JLingz :(“ on in pink icing.

Jesse accepted the apology because he was a little love bug and didn’t have it in him to stay mad. He sat cross legged on his bed and regaled Dele with the tale of how his date had gone around mouthfuls of cookie, crumbs flying everywhere. 

“Oh my god, proper good, honestly,” Jesse said, licking icing off his fingers. “We get along so well even though we’ve got nout in common. Well that’s not true, we’re both from Manchester, both love United. But like, he’s more of... he’s more Nike and I’m more Adidas, know what I mean?” 

Dele didn’t know but he nodded. 

“But we just clicked. Proper kissing at the end of it, would’ve went home with him right then and there but he’s all shy and trying to be good and that. Have you seen his biceps Del? Have you?” 

Dele smiled sadly. He was happy for Jesse, he really was. He just... was a bit jealous, that was all. He knew you weren’t supposed to wait for another person to complete you - human beings aren’t halves, they’re wholes - but he still hoped things would be better if he just had someone he could call home. Now Jesse had Marcus and all Dele had was a stupid bet involving a guy he hated. 

“So he invited me to the party, and he said you guys could come. Well - he said the boys could, he didn’t mention you. But I think that’s just because of the stuff with Eric. Not personal or that.” 

Dele would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt. He didn’t need to be liked by everyone, except for how he kind of did. 

“Nah, you boys go without me,” Dele said stoically. “I’ve got that essay to finish, so it works out, actually.” 

“What? Shut up,” Jesse said, nudging Dele with his toes. “We’re pre-ing here. Tripps is bringing weed. C’mon!” 

“I dunno... Harry’s raging at me too.” 

“If you aren’t here tomorrow night at 9 I will never fucking speak to you again. You have to come - you owe me, Del. You owe me after you pimped me out!” 

“Yeah, and now you’re in love!” 

“Still!” 

“Okay, fine. But if I get thrown out then I’m going to kill you.” 

“You won’t be,” Jesse grinned as he finished the last of his cookie. 

Dele looked at him semi disgustedly and made his leave, muttering about the essay he needed to finish. 

— 

When they arrived at the party this time it was house music thumping out of the building instead of Britney. It wasn’t as busy as last time, this party less of a rager and more of a gathering of friends and acquaintances. 

Dele apologised to Harry and Tripps at pres and they both waved him off, telling him it was in the past. Harry pulled Dele aside when they started walking to the party though, hissing that if he ever did something like that again to poor Jesse, Harry would kill him. 

Dele tried to hide himself at the back of the line as they filtered in the front door, a feat considering his height. They greeted Marcus and Kane in the kitchen, and the footballers exchanged a glance at Dele’s presence but said nothing. Dele breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a beer, deciding to play it cool, hang back quietly for a while and prove that he wasn’t actually an annoying loud mouth 100% of the time. 

Marcus and Jesse couldn’t take their eyes off each other, conversation flowing between them like they’d never left each other. Kane, Harry and Trippier were deep in conversation about Arsenal’s form that season, and Dele hung onto the end of their conversation, glancing around occasionally at the other party goers. 

After a while John Stones walked in hand in hand with a guy he introduced as Jordan. They joined the conversation but they were more interested in each other, whispering in each other’s ears and laughing, knocking their fingers together surreptitiously as if they thought no one else could see. There were couples everywhere and Dele hated it. 

He slipped out of the circle after a while, and he’d been making so few contributions that no one noticed anyway. He moved through the house like a shadow, no one noticing him when his personality wasn’t dialled up to 20 and commanding attention. He let his feet walk him down the corridor, past the living room with its thumping music and up the stairs. He’d never been up there and his heart picked up speed as he climbed them, wood creaking under his feet. 

Kane, Dier, Stones and Rashford lived here, and as such there were four bedroom doors and another for the bathroom. Dele stuck his head in the first and knew instantly that it was Marcus’s from the thousands of photos he’d bluetacked to the walls. Pictures of him in Spain with his friends, photos of him in footie gear, him at Old Trafford. 

Dele closed the door carefully and moved onto the next. It was quiet up here and he was sure he was the only person on this level of the house. He wasn’t sure what he was playing at, but he edged into the second room carefully, deciding it must be Harry Kane’s - it was tidy and neat with biology notes on the desk, some stuck to the wall on flash cards. Dele smiled at Harry’s stuffed bear on the bed and closed that door too. 

The third was open ajar and Dele pushed it all the way, his heart hammering loud in his ears. This was it, he was sure - he knew instinctively by the smell, by the organised mess of the things inside. There was a footie shirt slung over the back of the desk chair and Dele picked it up, confirming his suspicions- it said Dier on the back. Dele held it up to his nose and inhaled. It smelled of washing powder, the kind mums used, and he resisted the temptation to slide it over his head. He turned to look at the double bed pushed up against the far wall, imagining that this was where Dier and his bird had sex. Dele dragged his eyes away and walked to a rickety looking book case, bending close and fingering the spines of the books. There were lots of Economics text books and plenty of classic literature. Dele couldn’t help but smile as he lifted out a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, it’s spine cracked and worn. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

Dele dropped the book and span around, his face blooming red as he set eyes on the occupant of this bedroom. 

Eric was looking at him with a face like thunder, his arms hanging down by his side. Dele was panicking, trying hard to get his brain to cooperate - say something cocky. Say something patronising. Say something say something say something say something - 

“Well?!” 

“Didn’t know you could read,” Dele croaked eventually, looking down at the book lying in a heap at his feet. “Biff chip and kipper books maybe, but this is impress -“ 

His breath vacated his lungs as Dier snapped and crossed the room towards him like a charging bull. Dele prepared for impact, his eyes closing as he anticipated the feel of a fist colliding with his nose, but instead he felt Eric’s body slam into his, his back hitting the book case. He let out a quiet oof, his eyes flying open. Eric’s face was so close, all screwed up with rage and energy. He had his hands on either side of Dele’s head, surrounding him. Dele couldn’t breathe. 

“I’m so sick and tired of you,” Eric hissed. Dele could smell beer on his breath. “You’re everywhere, all the time. Why are you always in my fucking space?” 

“Omnipresent. Like uh... like god.” 

“Shut up for once in your life,” Eric growled. It went right to Dele’s dick. If Eric leaned his hips slightly to the left, he’d feel it, and maybe Dele would win this thing. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

“Make me,” Dele whispered, his eyes crossing as he looked at Eric’s mouth. 

Eric was silent, looking into Dele’s eyes, and then - 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kane said, putting his hand over his eyes. “Fuck, I’m - Eric, Emily’s here.” 

Eric moved away from Dele quickly, his face flushed. “Uh, cheers, Harry. I’m coming now.” 

Eric didn’t look back as he left, and Harry threw Dele an apologetic glance before he followed. Dele locked himself in the bathroom whilst he gathered his wits, splashing cold sobering water on his burning face. 

Dele didn’t say goodbye to anyone before he went home. The last thing he saw was Eric and his girlfriend talking heatedly in the living room. He left with a sad twist in his stomach, feeling impossibly like he didn’t belong. 

— 

Dele woke up only marginally hungover and decided to take advantage of his state by finishing the fucking essay he was procrastinating on. He got up and went to the library early - or, early for Dele, 11am was no joke - and found a good desk near a window. 

He broke himself in gently by watching a couple of YouTube videos, and then it was lunch time so he went for a meal deal. After he’d eaten and was satisfied with a full belly he sat back down at his laptop and stared at the question on the screen. His essay was about Keynesianism and the government’s role in managing inflation and recession, but Dele just didn’t get it - he’d missed that particular lecture, convinced himself he could just catch up on the notes later, but it was never that simple and teaching oneself about economics wasn’t an easy feat. 

Dele sighed and collapsed back in his seat, picking up his phone and texting Harry. 

Dele: Why do we even need to do Economics this is a fuckin politics degree 

He navigated away from his messages to the Instagram app. Jesse had uploaded a cute photo of him and Marcus at the party last night, and Dele was wondering whether to like it or be shady and ignore it when someone leaned in and spoke in his ear. 

“I’m sorry about last night.” 

Dele nearly fell out of his chair, his heart rate rocketing. “Fuck!” He gasped, clutching his chest and turning round to look at Eric. “Jesus!” 

“I’m sorry!” Whispered Eric, looking around the library anxiously. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“Well you did!” Exclaimed Dele. “You can’t just sneak up on people!” 

“Stop shouting!” Eric insisted, kneeling down beside Dele’s desk. “You’re going to get us in trouble!” 

“You started it!” Dele snapped, and Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Listen - I didn’t come here to argue again,” he said. “I said I’m sorry.” 

Dele looked at Eric suspiciously. “Are you?” 

“Yeah. I was drunk, I was being a dick head. I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” 

“Oh. Well, then. Apology accepted.” Eric looked at Dele like he was waiting for something, and Dele stared back at him dopily for a moment before saying “Know anything about Keynes?” 

“I do Economics,” Eric answered. “You stuck?” 

“Can you two keep it down?” A girl called over suddenly. 

“Sorry!” Eric called over his shoulder, standing up. “Maybe I could help you out, somewhere we can actually talk about it?” 

Dele tried to stop his mouth from twisting into a shit eating grin, but he failed miserably. “Okay. Your place? Tonight?” 

“Uh - maybe not mine. Are you in halls? I could come by after practice?” 

Dele wasn’t sure if this was a prank or a piss take or if he was dreaming, but he agreed anyway, writing down his number so Dier could text him when he was on his way and Dele could let him in. 

Then he was off, walking away through the library in a show of broad shoulders and tapered hips and annoyingly perfect ass. Dele decided to sack off the essay. He closed his laptop, gathered up his stuff, and went home to panic tidy his room. 

— 

Dele changed his outfit three times before Eric arrived, going from jeans to joggers to shorts. All his shit had been stuffed under his single bed and he’d sprayed Lynx everywhere to mask the smell of the laundry he hadn’t done for 3 weeks. He was bouncing nervously from spot to spot when he got a text saying hey, I’m downstairs, and he sprang out of his room so quickly he nearly forgot his keys. 

Eric Dier was standing in the lobby with wet hair, probably having just showered after practice, and the sight of him made Dele’s mouth run dry. It was going to be tough spending time with someone so annoying, Dele thought, but at least he was fit. At least looking at him wasn’t a chore. Dele smiled at him and nodded in acknowledgement, motioning for Eric to follow him up the stairs to the third floor. 

They climbed in silence. Dele opened his bedroom door and let Eric in, praying the dirty sock smell wasn’t too noticeable. Eric’s face didn’t wrinkle up or change though and Dele was grateful as he flopped down on his bed, pulling out his laptop and looking at Eric expectantly. 

“So,” Dele said as Eric sat down in the desk chair, his legs open wide. Figures he was a manspreader. “Keynes.” 

“What’s your essay question?” 

Dele relayed it back to him and Eric hummed and leaned forward in the seat. “Okay. Basically...” he set off on a spiel about the theory. Dele was watching him speak but he wasn’t listening to a word, focussing instead on how his voice cracked occasionally despite being so deep. Dele was looking at his fingers, thinking that they were so thick and meaty, when Eric leaned over and snapped them in front of Dele’s face. 

“Are you listening to me?!” 

Dele looked at Eric’s big blue eyes and couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s all fucking Swahili to me, Dier.” 

Eric grabbed the laptop out of Dele’s hands, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking twat. Here, I’ll write you an essay plan - just do the readings for it and you’ll be fine.” 

“Cheers,” Dele smirked. “And for the record - I would not do this for you.” 

Eric glanced at Dele over the screen of the laptop but started typing. It took him five minutes to craft Dele a four step essay plan for a course he’d never even sat. Dele chalked it up as one more reason to hate the guy, taking his laptop back and skimming over the plan. 

“This is good, for a PE student.” 

The next thing Dele knew, his laptop was out of his arms and the world was flipped upside down. Eric was digging into his ribs hard enough to hurt and Dele was laughing, slapping back and trying to get out from underneath his big body. They were laughing and breathless when Eric grabbed both of Dele’s wrists, pinning them to the mattress. They were giggling, chuckling, but then they weren’t, gazing at each other with wide eyes. Dele was hyper aware of those big hands wrapped around his arms, of how Eric’s legs were fencing him in. He swallowed and let his body relax. Eric was looking at him with a tenderness that made Dele blush. 

And then Eric was vibrating against Dele’s thigh. Dele looked down, puzzled, and Eric sat back on his knees, sighing and taking out his phone. Dele propped himself up on his elbows, hoping the mood wasn’t ruined, knowing it was. 

“I should - I have to take this,” Eric said, but he sounded sad. Like he didn’t want to leave. 

Dele’s mouth tilted up at one side. He wanted to ask Eric to stay, to pull him down and have him close and find out once and for all if he tasted as good as he looked, but he didn’t know how to do that. He’d never known how to ask people to stay. He’d never felt like he had the right. 

So Eric got off the bed and picked up his bag, answering the call with a tired “Yeah?” and raising his eyebrows at Dele by way of saying goodbye. Dele watched him leave, muttering into his phone and swinging his bag over his shoulder, and collapsed back against the pillows, puffing out the air in his lungs until his chest felt like it was empty. 

— 

The essay was easy to write when Dele had a plan to follow. He managed to submit it only two hours late too, so he’d only be penalised by 10%. As long as he got over a 50, who fucking cared? That was his motto. 

He rallied the boys to celebrate. Jesse already had plans to go out with Marcus and they all roasted him in the group chat, making comments about Jesse’s ‘ball and chain’ and asking him when the wedding was. Jesse simply sent the middle finger emoji in response. Dele was smiling even as he ripped into Jess - it was nice that he he was happy. Dele hoped he’d be the best man at their wedding, considering that he’d been the one to set them up. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the charged moments he’d been having with Dier. Did it mean something was going to happen, or was Dele picking up the signals wrong? He’d had a couple of wanks thinking about it, thinking about Eric screwing him in his single bed if his phone hadn’t started ringing right at that very moment. 

Dele relayed his progress to Harry as they wandered home from classes, trying hard not to sound like he was somewhat invested in this. Harry just shrugged and said the guy’s a weirdo, so what? Dele laughed and agreed, but he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe Dier wasn’t a complete selfish prick - he had, after all, apologised. And he had given Dele an essay plan, had sat and tried to explain economic theory to him. Maybe he was actually a good guy. 

Jesse dragged them all to the Pythons’ next game. He was embarrassingly eager, could’ve been a fucking cheerleader all on his own; jumping up and down whenever Marcus got the ball and screaming “YES BEANS!” 

“Fucking beans? What does that mean?!” Trippier scoffed, but Jesse ignored him. 

When the full time whistle was blown Jesse bounded down the stairs and leapt on Marcus, who caught him like they’d been doing this all their lives, his hands distributing Jesse’s weight expertly, their noses inches apart as they spoke to each other with big dopey grins on their faces. 

Dele and the boys shuffled along awkwardly at the sidelines, trying hard to appear aloof and above it all. Dele looked over at Dier, who was congratulating and celebrating the win with his teammates. His stomach swooped when Eric looked over and caught his eye, his gaze lingering a second longer than normal. Dele was the first to break, his cheeks pinking. 

Eric made his way over to them slowly, patting Rashford on the back and smiling politely at everyone. 

“Good tackling, Diet. Surprised you didn’t get a red though,” Dele said, looking at Eric like he was bored. 

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Diet?” 

“Isn’t that your last name?” 

Eric opened his mouth to respond but the coach came over and pulled him and Marcus away, needing to debrief the team. Dele watched Eric go with a strange sense of sadness in the pit of his tummy. 

— 

Dele got a text from his mother, the first in 2 months, on the same day that he got the results back for an essay he submitted in February. In the essay he received a 48, which was bad, and the text simply said ‘Neils daughter moving into ur room u need to find somewhere else for the summer’. Neil was her new boyfriend. Dele went out and got royally fucked up that night. 

— 

The week before student loans were due to come in, Dele had to borrow twenty quid off Harry. He used it to buy toilet paper, 5 pot noodles, a box of Frosties and a bottle of summer fruits squash. 

— 

Dele was fast asleep when the sound of hammering at his door roused him. He woke with a start, his heart racing. There was a fist banging furiously on his door, enough to make the thing shake on its hinges. He looked at the time on his phone - it was 3:24 am. 

Dele stumbled out of bed and yanked open his door, eyes squinting against the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. His flatmate Henry, an older American exchange student, was standing in his pyjamas glaring furiously at him. 

“What’s going on?” Dele asked. 

“The soccer Captain has been buzzing the apartment for the last 15 minutes, dude! Asking for you! I’ve had enough! I have to be up for class in 4 hours, Dele!” 

“The soccer - really?” 

“Yes, really! Deal with it!” Henry barked, turning and going back to his room. He slammed his door so hard the flat shook and Dele rolled his eyes as he walked to the intercom, still half asleep. Dele pressed the buzzer to grant entry, not bothering to speak into the phone. He opened the front door, not thinking too deeply about the fact that he was only wearing his underwear, and was almost surprised to actually see Dier loping up the stairs, very clearly drunk. 

“Dele!” Eric stage whispered, grinning as Dele came into view. “You’re naked!” 

“What do you want?!” 

“I need t’talk t’you,” Eric said, pushing past Dele and into the flat. “You’re in trouble.” 

“Keep your voice down. It’s three in the fucking morning!” 

Eric didn’t answer that, instead standing at Dele’s door and waiting for him to open it expectantly. Dele thought about telling Eric to fuck off but he was curious now, and Eric looked good - a bit dishevelled, but his hair was soft and floppy and his arms were tanned and strong and Dele was only human. He unlocked the bedroom door, letting Eric into his messy room. 

Eric flopped down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and propping a hand behind his head. Dele peered at him through the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust. 

“Comfy there?” 

“So,” Eric began, trying to stifle a yawn. “Jesse told Marcus you have a bet. About me.” 

Dele was thankful that the room was dark because his face turned beetroot. “Er - I don’t know -“ 

“Yes you do,” Eric said, and Dele could hear the smile in his voice. “Shag me by the end of exams.” 

Dele was going to fucking murder Jesse. He was going to find him, take him apart limb by limb, and throw him in the Thames. Oh my god, had there ever been a bigger idiot - 

“Do it now if y’want. Long as you share the money.” 

Dele cleared his throat. “Uh - aren’t you - you aren’t annoyed?” 

“Why would I be? Is’funny. You think you have that much game.” 

Dele scowled. “Fuck off. You’re here, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Eric breathed, turning onto his side suddenly. “So c’mere and win your bet.” 

Dele’s face was so hot it hurt, and he didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was about to pop a semi in his boxers too, and that was just undignified. This whole thing was humiliating. 

“Too drunk. And you’ve got a bird,” Dele said, his voice cracking. “So, uh. Not tonight.” 

“Boring,” Eric whined, and Dele was sure he could make out a pout through the grey darkness. “Shitebag.” 

“Call me old fashioned.” 

“Finished with her, by the way. Emily. Wasn’t workin. Weren’t happy.” 

Dele sat down on the desk chair before his legs gave out under him. He rubbed his hands over his face and exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck. I’m sorry. And, it’s not that I don’t want to. I would never take advantage of you, never. I mean, I don’t even - have you ever been with a boy? Fucking hell. I can’t - feels like I’m dreaming. What are we doing? Where have you even been tonight -“ 

Dele was interrupted by the sound of a snore ripping out of Eric’s chest. He looked up and shined his phone over the body in the bed - Eric had passed out, gone to the world. Dele watched him sleep for a few seconds before he felt like the world’s greatest creep. He grabbed his duvet from the end of the bed - Eric wouldn’t need it - and carried it into the communal sitting room, lying down on an uncomfortable faux leather sofa and trying his hardest to fall asleep - but not before he sent a quick text to Jesse, simply saying ‘your dead’. 

— 

Dele woke up with a sore neck, a dry mouth and a pair of big blue eyes right in his face. 

“Shit!” Dele cried, sitting up so fast he collided with the face, causing both of them to cry out in pain. “Why do you keep doing that!” 

“Ow!” Eric groaned, clutching his nose. “Why are you so fucking jumpy!” 

“Why are you watching me sleep?!” 

They looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, and then Eric held up his hands and shook his head. “Fine. Whatever. I was just going to say cheers for letting me kip in your bed, and I’m off.” 

“Oh. Okay?” 

“Yep.” 

“Uh... d’you... remember? Why you came over?” 

Eric looked a bit bashful for a second, but his cool exterior didn’t falter. “Yeah. Came to tell you I know about your ridiculous bet, didn’t I.” 

Dele raised an eyebrow, sitting upright and stretching out his tense neck. He and Eric looked at each other for what felt like an eternity before Dele said “Wanna get breakfast?” 

Eric looked down at the stupid expensive watch on his wrist. “I dunno... I’ve got class this morning. I should go to it.” 

“Live a little, Diet. You won’t get thrown out of uni because you missed one lecture.” 

Eric looked set to decline, and Dele didn’t expect him to say yes. He wasn’t even sure why he’d offered, really, but then - 

“Okay. Fine. Where do you wanna go?” 

— 

Dele dragged Eric in last night’s clothes to Wetherspoons. 

Eric looked as if he’d never set foot in one before, grimacing at the sticky carpet and studying the menu far longer than anyone who was a spoons regular would. Dele ordered a full English and Eric granola and fresh fruit. Eric sat waiting for table service for the longest time before Dele took pity on him and said “You order at the bar, posho.” 

Eric returned to the table with a pint of water and a latte and he and Dele sat across from each other silently for a few beats, neither of them sure what exactly they should be talking about. Finally, Eric said “So, Jesse and Rashy - they really hit it off, huh?” 

Dele nodded and smiled. “Yeah. It’s nice. I’m happy for them.” 

“Yeah, same. Feels like Jesse’s moved in with us though, we’re going to need to talk to them about like. Jesse chipping in. He takes forty minute showers.” 

Dele laughed, taking a sip of his tea. “Do I hear an accent there?” He asked suddenly, changing the subject. 

“Spent a lot of my childhood in Portugal, actually. Most of my family are still out there.” 

“Oh, sick. Never been to Portugal. Never left England, actually.” 

Eric raised his eyebrows in shock. “For real? No family holidays or that?” 

“Nah. We weren’t really a holiday sort of family.” 

“England’s still cool, though. You ever go Center Parks?” 

“My best friend Harry, you’ve met him. We’ve been mates since we were kids. His family took me one time for his tenth birthday. It was quality,” Dele said, smiling fondly at the memories. “You get many family holidays growing up?” 

Eric looked embarrassed then, eyes dropping to his latte. “Yeah, we got about a bit. I was pretty lucky with all that. Had a nice childhood.” 

Dele wanted to hate him for it, but he didn’t. It wasn’t Eric’s fault he’d been born to wealthy parents. Still, he couldn’t admit that. 

“Alright for some, rich boy.” 

“Shut up,” Eric said, but there was no bite behind it. 

The waiter brought out their food and they ate as they talked, ribbing each other and joking and making each other laugh. Their knees knocked under the table and neither of them made to move, the heat contact nice and exciting. Dele couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to finding knocking knees erotic, yet here he was, all his attention focussed on the heat radiating from Eric’s leg to his. 

They finished their breakfast and walked back through town together slowly, neither of them wanting the morning to come to an end. Eric asked Dele how his essay was going, and Dele replied that it was done, he’d managed to finish it. 

“Didn’t even need your help. Didn’t even look at the plan in the end.” 

“Sure you didn’t. God, you’re annoying.” 

Dele had to turn his head so that Eric wouldn’t see the huge smile on his face, but Eric could see it anyway, was laughing himself, and he reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Dele’s shirt, pulling him around. 

“Stop hiding your annoying smile!” Eric said, trying to pull Dele’s hands away from his face. “Admit you think I’m hilarious!” 

“Oh, you’re hilarious alright,” Dele said as Eric held down his arms, grinning goofily. “Fucking hilarious.” 

They were stood in the middle of the street, causing quite the obstruction. Eric dropped Dele’s wrists and let his hands come to rest on either side of Dele’s face. He had that sincere look again, the one that made Dele embarrassed, made him feel exposed. His arms were hanging limply at his side and he didn’t know why he wasn’t moving away, not when the bet was off. Not when there was no reason he had to be close to the worst person at the whole university. Not when he didn’t even like the guy. 

“I want to kiss you,” Eric murmured, his thumbs moving against Dele’s cheeks. “You annoy me so much, and I want to kiss you.” 

“Stop fucking talking and do it then,” Dele snapped, but it came out entirely too breathily. 

And then Eric leaned in, close enough that Dele could feel his breath against his lips. Dele’s heart was beating so hard in his ribs, his eyes on Eric’s mouth - he wanted to kiss him so badly, even here in the street, it didn’t matter. He was ready - 

“Stop using me in your bets,” Eric said, patting Dele’s face twice before stepping back and putting distance between them.   
Dele stared at Eric dumbly, confused. He was still staring gormlessly as Eric started walking away, smug grin on his face. He looked back once, winked, and then he was gone. 

— 

“So... does this mean the bet’s off?” 

“Yes, Harry. The fucking bet is off. No thanks to Mr Lingard over there.” 

“I said I’m sorry!” 

“What were you thinking!” Dele shouted for the third time, unable to look Jesse in the eye. “You’re such an idiot, Jesse!” 

“Alright, he said he was sorry,” interrupted Kieran, giving Dele a warning glare. “He didn’t know his boyfriend was going to tell Dier, did he?” 

Dele threw Jesse one last look that said ‘this isn’t over’ and pulled the joint out of Kieran’s fingers, taking a long crackling draw. He hated weed but he needed something to keep his mouth from making Jesse cry. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Dele said, handing the joint to Harry. “He’s nothing but a player. He’d never have done it anyway.” 

“Or are you just losing your touch, Del Boy?” 

“Piss off,” Dele said, casting his side eye over Harry. “Not losing anything.” 

“Seriously, you couldn’t pull a pint these days. You’d have lost that bet, easy.” 

“No I wouldn’t have,” Dele insisted, sitting up and scowling. “I could’ve shagged him last night. He turned up at mine!” 

“Why didn’t you then? Losing your touch!” Harry insisted, jabbing the joint in Dele’s direction. “Pussy!” 

“No I’m not,” Dele said, unsure why this was bothering him so much. “Stop saying that.” 

“You are losing it, Del,” Tripps said with a shrug. “The old Dele would’ve had him shagged weeks ago.” 

“That’s it!” Dele shouted, getting to his feet. “Lingard! Where’s your boyfriend right now?!” 

Jesse looked at the time on his phone and said meekly “Uh - finishing practice?” 

“I’ll show you ‘no game’,” Dele said, stomping out of Harry’s flat. He bolted down the stairs and out into the cooling evening air, sprinting across the square and past the library, down towards the sports fields. He could see people filtering out of the locker rooms, Marcus and Stones and some people he didn’t know, and he marched past them so quickly they didn’t even have a chance to question him, to ask what he was doing. 

There were two people still in there when Dele got inside, and both of them were zipping up their hoodies, ready to leave. Dele peered around and sighed, frustrated, when he heard the pipes creaking over head like someone had just cut off the water. Dele walked into the showers, holding his breath, and yes - there he was, all six foot three of him, hair dark with water, ridiculous pink towel around his waist. 

Eric turned around at the sound of another person and frowned when he saw Dele. Dele didn’t give him a chance to ask because he was closing the gap, gripping the back of Eric’s neck hard and pulling him into a kiss. 

Eric was stiff at first, clearly quite taken aback, but he melted into it eventually, arm wrapping around Dele’s waist, tongue sliding against Dele’s, his neck bent ever so slightly to close the inch or two between them. He was firm and smelled clean and he kissed dirtily and Dele started entertaining fantasies of letting Eric fuck him on the benches out there, letting him hold him up against the lockers, getting back into the shower and bending over against the tiles and letting him do whatever he wanted. Not because he had anything to prove, but because he wanted to. 

But they heard the sound of voices, someone had come in, maybe the coach or a cleaner, and they sprang apart, both panting and pink cheeked and aroused. 

“I had to prove a point,” Dele grumbled, dragging his eyes away from Eric’s pink shiny lips. “My point is proven.” 

Eric stared at him like he was mad, and maybe he was. Dele left before anything else could happen or Eric could tell him never to do that again or tell him he was a shit kisser or say ‘hey, that didn’t do anything for me, let’s stop all this shall we?’ 

He took out his phone on his way back across campus, opening the group chat and sending three tongue emojis with the caption ‘I’ve still got game, fuckers’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I love u. Thank u for reading the things I make xxx


	4. Chapter 4

After they’d kissed once, it was pretty hard to stop. 

At first, they needed excuses - Dele asked Eric to come over and check over his essay, and Eric simply scanned the thing before dumping the laptop on the end of the bed and pulling Dele into a kiss, little bit nervous about it, eyelids shaking. 

Eric threw house parties and Dele texted him to meet behind the shed, cold and dark in the garden, faint smell of ronseal in the air, pressing himself into Eric’s space sloppily. Both of them grimaced after it, pretending it was shit, pretending they hated it, but it was never long before they were finding more reasons. 

Eric texted Dele between classes to meet him in the toilets at the SU, or at the back of empty lecture theatres. “I just want to do this one more time, just out of interest,” Eric would say, already planning the next time in his head. They were unable to stop. 

Jesse was going to Marcus’s after they’d been at the pub one night and Dele insisted on walking him over there. “It’s not safe at this time of night,” he said. “Someone could kidnap you.” 

When Stones opened the door Dele darted past him, throwing some story over his shoulder about Eric borrowing his sharpener. He didn’t bother knocking when he was outside Eric’s room, just pushed open the door, barging right in. Eric was under the covers with his laptop in front of him and he closed it rapidly, looking at Dele like he was mad. 

“What the fuck, dude?!” 

“Wanna kiss?” Dele said, already untying his laces. 

“You can’t just barge into people’s rooms -“ 

“Want to kiss or not?” 

“Keep your voice down,” Eric hissed. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” Dele grinned, getting onto Eric’s bed on his knees. “Just fine?” 

“Yes, then, I want to,” Eric said exasperatedly, sitting up against the pillows a bit more. 

“You do want to do some kissing, to be clear?” 

“Dele,” Eric warned, tilting his head. “Shut up.” 

Dele let his face hover close to Eric’s, satisfied by the way Eric’s eyes were following the swipe of Dele’s tongue across his lips. “What were you doing? Before I came in?” 

Eric tried not to answer, moving forward and attempting to close the gap, but Dele moved backwards. “What were you doing, Diet?” 

“Watching Netflix,” Eric answered, eyes flickering from Dele’s mouth to his eyes. “We going to talk or are we going to kiss?” 

“Let’s just talk,” Dele said, eyes glittering. “About how Jesse is probably getting railed next door as we speak.” 

“You’d hear him,” Eric said. “No doubt about it.” 

“Sounds a bit pervy, that, I won’t lie.” 

“Forget it,” Eric said, dropping back down against the pillows and rolling his eyes. “Just go.” 

Dele leaned in and kissed him then. Every time they did it it was less awkward, less nervy than the time before it, but this time was entirely new. Dele was kissing slowly, wetly, his hands on either side of Eric’s face. Maybe it was the smell of dick that was so undeniably in the air, maybe it was the thrill of being up here with Eric’s teammates all around them - either way it was hot, charged, Eric’s hands pulling at Dele’s waist and thigh almost absently. 

Dele took the hint, swinging his leg over Eric’s and grinding down slightly. There was an annoying amount of duvet between them, but Eric was fucking hard, Dele was sure of it. He broke away from the kiss, breathing shallow. 

“You were wanking, weren’t you?” 

“Dele,” Eric pleaded, chasing his mouth again, but Dele pulled back, just out of reach. “Yeah, I was, okay? I was having a wank in my own room in my own bed before you burst in the door.” 

Dele rewarded him for the truth with more kissing, fingers gripping the base of his neck tight. Eric’s hands were digging into Dele’s bent thighs, massaging them through the material of his jeans, perilously close to his arse. Dele broke away again, causing Eric to groan. 

“Were you watching porn?” 

“Ugh... yes.” 

“What kind?” Dele asked, rolling his hips again. That duvet had to fucking go. 

“I don’t know. Don’t remember.” 

“Shall I open your laptop and check?” 

“Fucking - gay porn. I was watching two blokes get off.” His face was burning, and if Dele couldn’t see it he’d have felt it under his hands. 

He smiled gleefully, kissing Eric again, not protesting when he put his hands under Dele’s thighs and flipped him onto his back, pressing him against the pillows and licking into his mouth some more. 

The stupid bet might’ve been off, but Dele was man enough to admit he still wanted to fuck Eric. He was fit after all, and Dele was only human. He let his legs fall apart suggestively, ears ringing as Eric disentangled himself from the sheets and got in between them, the press of an enormous appendage very much visible in his blue shorts. 

He wasn’t really expecting it when Eric ran his hand from Dele’s ankle to his waist, kissing at his neck, leaving a trail of wet marks up his skin. Dele was straining against his own jeans and it hurt so good, he could feel himself beginning to float on the moment - when it occurred to him suddenly that maybe, after they did this, if they fucked right now, maybe it’d all be over. 

“Stop,” he said suddenly, hand on Eric’s chest. “I need a breather. Time out.” 

Eric moved back instantly, panting himself, cheeks and neck flushed a pretty shade of red. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, no. Just - d’you want to actually watch something? Like on Netflix, or something?” 

“You want to watch tv? What?” 

“Yeah,” Dele said, trying to get his breath back. “Friends or something.” 

“You want to - okay,” Eric said, eyebrows rising and falling. “Alright, then.” 

Eric opened his laptop, navigating quickly away from the Chrome window he had open, typing in Netflix and pulling up Friends. He got back under the sheets, putting his laptop in the middle of the bed, and they lay there quietly, both still hard, both still flushed. 

It took a while but Dele came back to Earth slowly, able to think more clearly. After three episodes he made a show of checking the time on Eric’s wrist and saying he needed to head off. Eric awkwardly mumbled something about it being late, he could sleep on the couch if he wanted, but Dele shook his head and made up an excuse about an early morning class the following day, like either of them believed Dele would ever go to one of those. 

Eric showed him to the door. They stared at each other for a split second in the doorway, both of them wondering, both of them wanting - but then Dele held out a hand, gave Eric a polite shake, and disappeared down the path and up the street. 

— 

“So - you were going to shag, and you said let’s watch Friends instead?” 

“Well I don’t know if we were,” Dele snapped, kicking Harry under the table. “I said it was getting intense and I just freaked out. Like, what if he’s going to pump and dump?” 

“What do you care if he does? You wanting a boyfriend or something? Thought you didn’t even like him,” Harry answered, kicking Dele back. 

“I don’t. Like him. But if Jesse’s going to be hanging around them all the time and that, probably not good if things are awkward between us, is it?” 

“You totally fancy him.” 

“No I don’t!” Dele said, kicking him again, harder. “I think he’s fit, but I don’t fancy him!” 

“Isn’t it the same?” 

“Happening, fuckers?” Dele looked up at Trippier as he pulled out a chair beside them and sat down, slinging his backpack under the table. 

“Del fancies Eric Dier.” 

“I knew that.” 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, Del, but it’s not half obvious. You shagged him yet?” 

“No. And I won’t be, either. I’m not going to let myself get banged and binned off the fucking football captain. This isn’t a Wattpad fanfiction.” 

Dele saw Harry and Kieran exchange a look, and he was ready to demand they go fuck themselves when his phone dinged with a text. 

Diet: iv got an hour before next class are u in the flat 

Dele stood up from the table, looking down his nose at Kieran and Harry. “I’m off. Text me when you’re ready to stop slandering my name.” 

Dele walked out of the SU and quick marched across campus. Eric was skulking around the entrance to Dele’s halls, cap pulled down low as if that went any way towards hiding who was under it. Dele just walked past him and unlocked the door with his fob, trusting that Eric was hot on his heels. 

They climbed the stairs side by side. Dele opened the front door to the flat and then the bedroom door, turning to Eric and shoving his back pack off his shoulders, kissing him hungrily. Eric kissed him back and then paused, pushing Dele back gently. 

“Can we talk?” 

Dele looked at him. “About what?” 

“I had an argument with my dad,” Eric mumbled, dropping down heavily onto the bed. 

Dele wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. He sat down on the desk chair, thinking that this was a big mood killer. No kissing tonight, then. 

“What - uh, what happened?” 

Eric shrugged. “He wants me to give up the football stuff and use the time to do internships. He says I’m never going to get a job after uni if all I’ve done for three years is piss about kicking balls.” 

Dele hadn’t even begun to think about life after university, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what to say. “You’re in a better position than I am,” he laughed awkwardly. “I barely even go to class.” 

Eric didn’t look up from where his hands were folded in his lap. “He’s got big plans for me. He wants me to work for a big hedge fund like he does.” 

“Oh. What do you want to do?” 

Eric shrugged one shoulder sadly. “Play football? Coach kids or something, I dunno. I know you joke about studying PE but like, sometimes I wish I did study that. It’s about more than just kicking a ball, you know? It’s actually quite tough. Studying PE.” 

Dele couldn’t ignore the guilt that that sent up his spine. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his own lap. 

“No, it’s fine, don’t apologise. I get it, people joke about every degree.” 

It was quiet for a beat, Dele unsure what to say. “Have you always loved footie, then?” 

“Always,” Eric said, looking up with a smile. “Got offered a place at an academy in Portugal, they said I had what it takes to make it professionally. Dad said no, though. Said I had to get a proper education, work hard for my money instead of prancing round a field in a pair of knee high socks.” 

“That’s fucking bullshit. Everyone knows being a footballer is a tough slog.” 

“Yeah, it’s intense. It’s constant work, but he doesn’t get it.” 

“Sounds rough, mate.” 

“Told him I’m not quitting and he hung up on me. Got a game later and all I want to do is lie in bed and not think.” 

Dele wished he had something profound to say, something that would make Eric feel better, but he was drawing blanks every time he thought of something - he wasn’t used to this. He found the whole thing unsettling. It must’ve been all over his face, though, because Eric said “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry. I know you don’t care about all this, I just - I wanted to tell someone who isn’t going to give me a big pity party, know what I mean? I’ll shut up -“ 

“No, I do care! I do care,” Dele said, surprising himself by finding that he actually meant it. “I’m just shit at this stuff. My dad doesn’t give a fuck what I do, but like, not in a cool laissez faire way. In a like... he doesn’t really take anything to do with me way. So I don’t... I can’t relate. But I can see that the situation is really shit. Actually, I don’t know - I don’t know where I’m going to live in the summer, so there’s that. My mum told me not to come back, she’s moved her boyfriend’s kid into my room. So, you know. I get the whole... feeling disconnected thing.” Eric was looking at him with a special kind of pity then, the kind Dele hated. The kind that made him never want to tell anyone about his family life. “Please don’t feel sorry for me, because it’s not -“ 

“I don’t,” Eric said quickly. “I feel like a dick, coming in here and going on about - you’ve got your own shit. Of course you do, we all do. I’m sorry, I’m a twat -“ 

“I’m glad you told me. Dier, for real, it’s nice you wanted to tell me. Not being sarcastic.” 

Eric smiled, defeated, and Dele smiled back. He was aware that they were having a moment, a delicate thing that was changing their relationship, changing the way they saw each other, and he couldn’t stand the weight of it - he was scared of what it meant. He was scared of just how things would change, so he contracted all of his muscles and pushed out a loud fart. 

“Oh my god!” Eric laughed, groaning and putting his hand over his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“Had a kebab last night, didn’t I?” Dele said, pleased that the moment was now over and they could go back to whatever it was they normally did. “Always goes right through me.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Stop dirty talking me, it’s broad daylight.” 

“Will you come to my game tonight?” Eric said suddenly, not laughing anymore. “I uh. It makes me play better when you’re there. Cos I don’t want to give you anything to roast me about.” 

Dele had to swallow twice before he could formulate a response. He nodded slowly and smiled. “Yeah, I think the lads are going anyway, so. I’ll pop down.” 

“Cool.” 

“I’m probably gonna go to the toilet,” Dele said, slapping his hands on his knees and getting up. 

Eric took the hint and stood up quickly. “Yeah, I better get off to class anyway. Gonna stop and get a coffee,” he mumbled, picking up his bag off the floor and checking his phone briefly. “Should probably enjoy Starbucks before my dad cuts me off.” 

Dele walked to the door, hand on the handle, and paused, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. Eric seemed to know, though, because without second guessing he put his hand on Dele’s face and kissed him. Not a sexual kiss, not with any heat or agenda, just a kiss. Soft, warm. Dele could hardly enjoy it for the alarm bells ringing in his head. 

“They were wrong about you,” Eric murmured as he pulled back, licking his own lips. 

Dele didn’t know who or what Eric was referring to, and he didn’t ask. “People usually are,” he said instead, opening up the door and watching as Eric disappeared down the stairs. 

— 

The Pythons had to win this game to go through to the semi final of the season, and it was clear to Dele from the get go that Eric’s head wasn’t in it. 

He was sloppy on the ball, losing possession and getting frustrated at nothing, stamping his feet and being aggressive towards the other team. 

“What’s wrong with your boyfriend? He’s fucking shit tonight,” Harry observed, nodding down to where Eric was being awarded a yellow card for a questionable tackle. 

“How should I know?” Dele grumbled, but he did know what was wrong. He knew exactly what was wrong, and he felt bad about it. Eric’s dad was a dick head. 

“Marcus says he has a man period and gets crabby once a month,” Jesse said, leaning over Kieran. “Apparently he’s a moody bastard.” 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Tripps added, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Probably in a bad mood because his maids didn’t iron his socks how he likes.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Dele heard himself saying before he could think better of it. The three of them looked over at him in silence. “Just - you don’t ever know what someone’s going through, do you?” 

“Didn’t realise you liked him that much,” Trippier said, frowning at Dele. “Sorry for insulting your boyfriend.” 

“Stop taking the piss, will you? I’m just fucking saying. No need to be fucking nasty all the time.” 

“Your period too, is it?” Harry said, looking at Dele with narrowed eyes. “You in a bad mood for the same reason he is?” 

“I swear to god if you don’t stop, Harry, I’m going to walk away. Fucking drop it.” 

“Consider it dropped,” Harry answered, turning himself away from Dele just enough for Dele to know he’d touched a nerve. Dele didn’t care. He needed some peace and quiet anyway. 

 

The final score was 0-0, and so the game went to penalties. 

Jesse was practically screaming, jumping up and down in his seat and crying out Marcus’s name like he was watching England at a World Cup. 

Marcus was first, and he scored comfortably. Next was Kane, and he followed suit, his ball hitting the top corner expertly. Then it was Eric, and Dele could tell from the way his shoulders were so tight that he wasn’t in the zone. He held his breath as Eric waited over the ball, rolled his neck, and then kicked - hitting the cross bar and sending the away crowd into a cacophony of cheers. 

Dele groaned and let his head fall into his hands. None of the boys said anything, probably unsure where to tread. Eric’s miss hadn’t put the Pythons out the game but it had levelled the playing field - if their rivals scored the next one and the Pythons missed, they’d go out. 

Dele didn’t dare look out from behind his hands as he heard the away crowd roar again, their penalty hitting the net. It was down to Wilson now, a team mate that Dele had seen around at some of the parties the boys threw. He held his breath as Wilson stepped up, drew his foot back, and kicked. 

The ball went in and the Pythons were through to the semi finals. Everyone jumped up and screamed, celebrating wildly. Dele stayed sat in his seat, looking down at the pitch. Eric wasn’t jumping around with his teammates - he was shaking hands with the opposing team politely, quickly, like he wanted to get off the pitch as soon as possible. Just before he turned and went up the tunnel, he looked into the crowd, peering against the floodlights. Dele couldn’t be sure from the distance, but he thought Eric was maybe looking for him. 

They traipsed out of the stands in single file. The lads were chattering about something but Dele wasn’t listening. Marcus was waiting for Jesse at the bottom of the stairs, sweaty and grinning after his game. Dele watched them embrace with a sad smile. 

“I’m gonna go,” he said to Harry and Kieran. “See you later.” 

He didn’t wait for their response, pushing through the crowd and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Dele didn’t know what to fucking say, was the thing. He didn’t know what kind of comfort he could provide, or if Eric even wanted him to. 

He got back to his room and had a quick shower, turning the water high enough to hurt a little bit. He borrowed someone else’s fancy Lush body wash - Rose Jam, it said - and didn’t get out until he thought he’d surely pass out from the heat. Dele pottered back to his room barefoot, rubbing a towel over his hair, and saw that his phone was lit up with a notification. 

Diet: can I see you tonight 

Dele’s stomach flipped. He considered leaving it - going to sleep, getting an early night. Letting Eric work through this on his own, whatever. He replied ten seconds later, though, saying yeah. Come over. 

Eric must’ve been nearby because it didn’t take long before the flat door was buzzing. Dele let him in, leaving a shoe in the main door so he wouldn’t have to stand at the top of the stairs waiting with wet hair and bare feet. He only had to wait a moment before Eric was in his room, his own hair shower damp. 

“Congrats on the -“ 

“Can we just not? I just want to take my mind off it,” Eric said, slinging his bag down in the corner and unzipping his jacket. “I don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Dele could do that. God, he could definitely do that. He stepped into Eric’s space at once, pulling him down into a hard kiss, firm and needy. Eric kissed him desperately, and Dele thought it kind of sounded like a dog eating food and that made him laugh, snickering against Eric’s mouth as Eric tried in vain to keep the kiss going, lips meeting nothing but teeth. 

“What’s so funny?” Eric murmured, kissing at Dele’s jaw line. 

“Nothing,” Dele answered, tilting his chin to capture Eric’s mouth again. “I’m just happy.” 

He hadn’t meant to be that soft, and he wanted to counter it with something sharp and mean but Eric was pushing him back towards the little single bed, pushing him down on the mattress, climbing onto the bed beside him. Eric was holding Dele’s face like he was made of glass. It was a far cry from the guy who had stood in the kitchen that night staring Dele down. The thought that maybe Eric was different than how Dele first assumed was enough to make him feel light headed. 

They made out like that for a while - minutes, hours, years, Dele didn’t know. His lips felt swollen and he was running a semi, holding his hips back so that Eric wouldn’t accidentally feel it. Eric began kissing his jaw again, pressing his lips down Dele’s neck. Dele cradled the back of Eric’s head as he did so, fingers scratching against his hair gently. He was breathing as deeply as if he’d run a marathon, his chest rising and falling quickly. Eric tugged on the neck of his T-shirt and pulled it, giving himself access to Dele’s collar bones. He sucked on them wetly and Dele hummed low, his nose pressing down into Eric’s hair. 

“You smell amazing,” Eric said, running his nose up the length of Dele’s neck. 

Dele made a mental note to steal more of the rose jam and pulled Eric up again, missing the feel of his tongue. As they started kissing again Eric rolled a bit so that he was half on top of Dele, one of his thighs slotting between two of Dele’s, and - oh. He had a boner, an undeniable erection, and he was moving it in tiny motions against Dele’s hip. 

Dele was only human. He moved his hips in retaliation, canting himself up and rubbing off on the flat plane of Eric’s upper thigh. Eric groaned when he realised what Dele was doing, forehead tipping against Dele’s temple, no longer kissing but blowing air into each other’s mouths. They managed to work up a solid rhythm, and all Dele could think about was how good it felt, how sexy this was, how he shouldn’t be doing it but he was anyway - 

“I’m not gay,” Eric said, suddenly, his eyes closed and voice breathy. “Obviously I’m into this, but I’m - I’ve never been with a boy.” It was sobering and Dele felt his libido evaporating, his hips stilling. Eric opened his eyes, looking down warily. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Dele answered. “I don’t want to be the next James Charles.” 

“Who?” 

“Let’s just not do that,” Dele said, cheeks tinting pink. “I mean what are we even - are we doing that? Are we fuck buddies?” 

Eric looked overwhelmed suddenly, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t really given it much thought,” he said, blinking at Dele. “I thought we were just fucking around.” 

Dele tried not to let any disappointment cross his face and nodded. “Yeah, me too. That’s what I think too.” 

“So we’re on the same page?” 

“Not if you’re unsure about whether you want to be doing this,” Dele said, studying Eric’s face closely. “Like, what you just said is warning bells for me.” 

“I just meant that I haven’t done this before. Not that I don’t want to be.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

Eric surprised Dele then. Instead of leaning back in or getting up and leaving he laid his head on Dele’s chest, exhaling a breath. Dele lay motionless for a moment before bringing his hand up and carding his fingers gently through Eric’s hair. 

Neither of them meant to fall asleep like that, but that’s what they did. 

— 

Dele didn’t realise that he hadn’t been out clubbing for weeks until Harry and Kieran sat him down and told him they were staging an intervention. He looked at both of them with an open mouth, quite baffled by what he was hearing. 

“You’re pulling me aside because I’m not doing drugs and partying enough?” 

“You know it’s not as simple as that,” Harry said, steepling his fingers in front of him. “You’re not yourself. We think you’re depressed.” 

Dele scoffed at that, certain the pair of them had lost the plot. “Depressed? I’m better than I have been for a while, actually. Cheers for noticing.” 

“You never come out anymore! You mope around on your phone all day. We’re worried.” 

“This is fucking ridiculous, even for you boys,” Dele said, getting to his feet. “I’m happy. Accept it.” 

He made to walk away when Harry spoke. “If you’re getting your happiness from that athlete, you’re in for a big shock.” 

“What’s that meant to be mean?” Dele snapped, rounding on Harry. 

“Leave it,” Kieran said, but Harry ignored him. 

“You think something’s going to happen, Del? He’s using you. You’re a fucking experiment, mate. Everyone’s talking about you.” 

“Everyone should get a fucking life, then. I’m not even seeing Dier.” 

“What are you doing then?” 

Dele thought of Eric’s words - just fucking around. His stomach turned. “Fuck off Harry, yeah? You’re being a fucking prick.” 

“Nah, Dele. I’m just the only one who cares about you enough to tell you what we’re all thinking!” He shouted at Dele’s retreating back. 

Dele walked without thinking much about where his feet were taking him, his heart thumping in his ears. How had he lost the upper hand? Why was Harry encouraging him to try and fuck Eric one minute and warning him off the next? 

Dele knew Eric was at training because he’d been texting him all morning. He tore into the changing rooms like he’d done many times before, finding Eric and John alone and chatting about something in chirpy voices. 

Eric’s face lit up when he saw Dele approaching but the smile dropped when he saw Dele’s face. 

“Del?” 

“Can I have a word with Eric?” Dele said to John, his tone of voice making it clear that he wasn’t really asking for permission. 

John looked at Eric, who nodded. “Catch you later,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out. 

“What’s going -“ 

“Are you fucking around with me?” Dele said, folding his arms across his chest. “Apparently everyone’s talking about me. Is that true?” 

Dele saw something flicker in Eric’s eyes and his heart dropped, but then Eric was shaking his head. “I like spending time with you.” 

“I do too. I like you, Diet. I don’t know how or why, but I do.” 

“Me too. I like you.” 

“I want to show you how much I like you,” Dele said, stepping forward brazenly and untying the strings on Eric’s shorts. “But it’s your call. And there’s no bets, either. It’s cos I want to.” 

Eric opened his mouth and nothing came out, so he nodded nervously, looking suddenly like a nervous teenager. Dele let his fingers trail along the waistband of his shorts, leaning in close to Eric’s ear. “Say it, Diet.” 

“I want you,” Eric said, voice shakier than Dele had ever heard it. “I want whatever you want to give me.” 

Dele dropped to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut, pushing up Eric’s T-shirt and kissing his flat stomach, grazing his hip bone with his teeth. Dele thought it was both surprising and entirely unsurprising that he was here, on his knees in the boys locker room, and he smiled against Eric’s skin at the irony of it all. 

Eric’s hand cupped the back of Dele’s head as he nosed at him through his shorts, huffing out wet breaths against the fabric. Eric was hard embarrassingly quickly, fattening up under Dele’s lips like someone was blowing up an inflatable. It was Eric who pushed his own waist band down, impatient. 

The head of his dick popped out and Dele marvelled at it for a second before licking at it, tasting, touching, filling his senses. He wrapped his lips around it properly and looked up at Eric, his own dick twitching at the sight of him - eyes blown, mouth ajar, back against the lockers. Dele started blowing him in a steady rhythm, using his hand to ensure Eric felt surrounded. 

Eric let his head bang against the lockers as he moaned, a quiet stretched out fuck escaping his lips. Dele couldn’t help but palm himself through his trousers, utterly turned on by the smell of the locker room and the taste of Eric, the way his fingers were pulling on his hair so hard. 

Maybe Eric would leave, maybe he was fucking Dele around - but in that moment, Dele didn’t care. This was hot and he felt alive, felt more into the act of giving a blowjob than he ever had in his whole life. He didn’t bother trying to hide his enthusiasm, mouth wet enough for it to be clear that he was literally salivating over this, salivating over Eric’s cock. 

The only warning Eric gave before he came was the tightening of his fingers on Dele’s hair, hard enough to pull it out, his hips pulsing forward suddenly and then freezing as he came hard in Dele’s mouth, enough come for Dele to think he’d not masturbated for months if he didn’t know any better. 

Dele pulled off when Eric was done, panting against his hip. Eric only waited a second before pulling him to his feet, enveloping him in a wet kiss. He was sure to be able to taste himself on Dele’s tongue - Dele felt Eric’s hips buck against him feebly before he slotted a thigh between Dele’s legs and pulled him forward, hands gripping Dele’s arse, telling him - get off. I want you to get off. 

Dele took the hint, rubbing himself off against Eric’s big thigh, the ropes of muscle moving under his erection. It wasn’t the most satisfying orgasm he’d ever had but it was fucking hot, and he came with a choked off cry into Eric’s mouth, eyes squeezing shut, Eric’s name flashing in his mind as he felt complete euphoria go through his system. He never wanted to let Eric go ever again, not when he could make Dele feel this good. 

Dele let his forehead rest against Eric’s neck, both of them holding each other up on shaky legs. Without thinking he pressed a timid kiss to Eric’s skin and whispered “I feel less alone when I’m with you.” 

Eric said nothing, but his hand found Dele’s and he squeezed. Dele wasn’t a fortune teller, he didn’t have a crystal ball. But in that moment he was confident - Eric wasn’t going to hurt him. And he wouldn’t hurt him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone’s who’s still with me on this one - thank you for trusting in my ability to tell a story. I promise it’s going to be worth it xxxx


	5. Chapter 5

With exam period looming, everyone was tense. 

As much as he loathed it, Dele had to start spending more of his free time in the library. He knew the price to be paid for skipping lectures was self teaching at the end of the year, and yet he still resented it. He hadn’t seen Harry, Tripps or Jesse in the week since their argument over Eric. 

He almost phoned Harry once or twice but stopped himself both times, deciding it should be Harry who came to him. Still, the radio silence was getting to him. He felt more alone than he had for a long time - Eric was busy with training for the final game of the season, and it wasn’t like Dele had a home he could just pop back to at times like this, have his mum do his laundry. He was sick of the sight of the library, sick of the sight of his room. He even tried talking to his weirdo flatmates but quickly changed his mind on that when one of them enthusiastically brought up Game Of Thrones. 

Dele considered taking some pills and going out to the club on his own, but found that he wasn’t interested in pulling and being hungover in the morning. He was happier lying under the covers texting Eric about his day. 

And therein lay the crux of the problem - Dele was falling for him, hook line and sinker. He checked his phone for Eric’s name the minute he woke up, he pictured Eric’s hands when he jacked off, he thought of Eric’s shoulder blades when he was washing his hair in the shower. Dele wasn’t sure if it was because he’d never gotten to know someone properly before getting into bed together or if Eric was just... different. The whole thing felt new, though. Exciting and new. 

It wasn’t all roses. One day Dele didn’t wake up to a text from Eric. He got out of bed with a nervous sickness in his stomach, mentally scrambling for an answer. None were forthcoming - Dele knew Eric had been up for hours because he knew he was getting in training before class that day. His mind started racing with thoughts - Eric was over it, he was done. If he wanted to speak to Dele, he would, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t just forget, not if he cared. Dele would never just forget, not when he felt how he did. 

Dele didn’t go to the library that day, instead staring at his ceiling and wondering what he’d done wrong, convincing himself Eric was every bit the fuck boy Dele had imagined he was. He looked at their conversation from the night before - Dele messaged last, a flirty comment about Eric forgoing his lecture the next day and coming over to Dele’s instead. Maybe Dele was too forward, too keen - maybe he’d freaked Eric out. 

He rolled onto his stomach in bed and screamed into the pillow, remembering suddenly why he didn’t fucking do this, this feelings thing. People were untrustworthy, they always left. They always fucking left. 

Dele was dragged from his melodrama by the sound of the door buzzing. He cursed whoever was having friends over - no doubt they’d take over the kitchen and he’d have to starve until they cleared out. He couldn’t wait to move out of student accommodation and finally get his own fucking place. 

Someone banged on his door and he groaned, hauling himself out of bed and stomping over. 

“What is it?!” He snapped at the certified horse girl who’s room was across the corridor. 

“Door’s for you?” She said, looking him up and down unkindly. “And you didn’t wash your dishes last night -“ 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dele muttered, pushing past her and going to the front door. His heart was doing somersaults, blind optimism taking him over - Eric had come over, Eric was here, he’d probably just left his phone at home all day and - but then Harry rounded the corner, causing Dele’s optimism to disappear as quickly as it came. 

“Delboy!” Harry said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Where the fuck you been?” 

“Catching up on uni,” Dele said, closing the door and following Harry back to his room. “In the library. Boring shit. It’s good to see you though H,” he said, and meant it. 

“The lads all miss you. We should go out soon.” 

Dele flopped down on his bed and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, we should. I’d like that.” 

“You alright?” 

Dele considered lying, but he couldn’t breathe properly for the sadness sitting on his heart. He sighed and shook his head. “Haven’t heard from Eric all day, so. You can say I told you so.” 

“Maybe he’s busy?” 

“He’s always busy but he always finds the time.” 

“So text him then?” 

“I’m not going to pester him,” Dele said. “If he wanted to talk he would.” 

“Failing to see how this isn’t you being totally dramatic, Del. Anyway, so what if he doesn’t text you back? It was never serious, was it?” 

Dele shrugged. “No, but like - kind of yeah. I told him I like him. We did stuff.” 

“You shagged him?!” 

“No, we haven’t had sex. He’s never had sex with a boy.” 

“Fuck sake, Del, I don’t want you to get -“ 

“Well, looks like I’ve already been hurt,” Dele said, pulling his knees up to his chest. He sighed. “He’s different when we’re on our own. He’s soft with me, Harry.” 

“I’m sure he is soft with you if he’s trying to get into your pants. Aw Del, this is so - I wish I’d never fucking started the stupid bet in the first place. Wish we’d never gone to their stupid party. The only good thing that’s come out of it is Jesse and Rashford and even then, the pair of them get on my fucking tits.” 

“I don’t think he is trying to get in my pants,” Dele said defensively. “He never pushes it.” 

“What if he’s not talking to you because you haven’t put out?” 

“Aw cheers, Harry, that makes me feel better,” Dele snapped. “Great. Thanks for that.” 

“Well, I’m just saying! Fuck sake, Del, you’re better than this! All this moping about! If he was ‘the one’ he wouldn’t make you question his intentions, would he?” 

“Why does this always happen to me?” Dele said, dragging out his vowels. “When am I going to get what Jesse’s got? I should’ve went for fucking Marcus myself. This is bullshit!” 

“Stop crying and get up, c’mon. Let’s go for a drink. You‘re like a mole person.” 

“I don’t feel like drinking.” 

“Yeah, but you will. Come on, give yourself a fucking shake! Whatever happened to the old Dele?” 

“You know what? You’re right,” Dele said, jumping to his feet. “Fuck that big mediocre two foot tackling posh boy twat. I’m better than this. I’m bringing back the old Dele. Let’s go!” 

— 

The old Dele woke up on the floor with a sharp banging in his skull. 

He groaned and put his hand to his forehead. Why the fuck was he on the floor? Dele moved his tongue from the roof of his mouth, dry and heavy. The banging wasn’t stopping, and he realised it wasn’t actually coming from inside his skull, but was a real noise coming from the door. 

Dele crawled over and pulled himself up by the door handle. He had no idea what time it was, no idea how he’d got home, no idea where they’d ended up last night. Things got blurry in his memory somewhere around the 8th pint. The last thing he remembered was Harry texting a friend who knew someone who could get them into some party or other. 

It took him two tries to unlock the door, and when he did he almost wished he hadn’t. Eric was stood there, sunlight surrounding him so that he looked like the second fucking coming. Dele probably looked like an empty crisp packet. 

“I’ve been phoning you,” Eric said, tapping his wrist. “We’re going on an adventure, come on.” 

“I uh - what? What time is it?” 

“It’s half ten. Come on, Del, want to beat the traffic.” 

“I don’t know if you can tell, Diet, but I think I’m still half cut. I can’t go anywhere right now.” 

Eric shouldered past Dele into the room, peering around and grabbing his shoes from the corner and his phone from the floor. “Come on, put these on. I’m parked on a double yellow!” 

Dele knew deep down there wasn’t even a chance he’d say no. Having Eric stood there was like every bit of sadness from the last 24 hours had been eradicated, transformed into dust, replaced by a balloon of happiness and hope and positivity. 

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. But let me brush my teeth first.” 

Eric waited dutifully as Dele tried his hardest not to throw up around his toothbrush, the invasive motions of it turning his already fragile stomach. He wiped his mouth and joined Eric in the hall, allowing him to lead the way. They walked into the street in comfortable silence, Dele wondering if he smelled bad. Eric’s car was indeed parked on a pair of yellow lines - a cherry red Audi. 

“Where the fuck did this come from?” Dele said, looking at it in awe. 

“It was a getting into uni present,” Eric mumbled as he unlocked the car. “Nothing but a petrol guzzler though.” 

Dele said nothing as he got in, sliding into the large leather seat. The car smelled new and the inside was immaculate, all brushed carpet and sleek black dashboard. Dele felt too dirty to even be sat in the car, stinking of last night’s alcohol and still in smokey clothes. 

Eric got in and started the engine, buckling up his seat belt and pulling off into the road. He turned on a chilled R&B playlist and rolled the windows down, letting air into the car. 

“Where are we going?” Dele asked after a couple of moments, wishing he had a bottle of Lucozade to glug at. 

“I want to take you somewhere special to me,” Eric said, glancing at Dele out the corner of his eye. “It’s somewhere at home. Two hours on the M8.” 

“Don’t you have practice?” 

“Not today. And, I’m sorry I was so quiet yesterday - I had an argument with some of the lads. I was in a fucking foul mood, didn’t want to take it out on you.” 

Dele’s heart thudded at the explanation. “My mates have been twats lately too. I get it, don’t worry. You don’t owe me an apology.” 

“I know, but, still. Is it weird that I like texting you so much?” 

Dele didn’t know what to say. He looked pointedly out the window so as to hide the redness in his cheeks and shrugged casually. “I don’t blame you. I’m pretty amazing.” 

Eric laughed then, freely and happily, and Dele had to hide his answering smile in his elbow. They stopped at a Spar before they got on the motorway, and Dele picked up some Lucozade and a packet of pickled onion Monster Munch. Then they were off, speeding up the open road listening to music and chattering companionably.   
Dele dozed off somewhere near Oxford and he woke up to Eric shaking him gently on the thigh. 

“Del? We’re here.”

Dele blinked and sat up straight, looking around. They were in an empty car park at what was nothing more than a large field, edged with bushes and a fence and beyond that suburban homes. There were two white goals either end of the field, worn and rusty looking. Dele wiped the back of his mouth and looked around as Eric got out the car, stretching his legs. 

Dele looked out the windscreen one last time before following, his own legs grateful for the change in position. Eric opened up the boot of the car and removed a cooler box and a football, slamming the car shut and walking by Dele with a grin. 

“So this, Dele, is where I fell in love with football all those years ago. This was the place I scored my first ever goal, won my first ever game, got my first ever red card. Right here, on this grass.” 

Dele followed as Eric put the basket down on the faded white line on the grass before doing some keepy uppy tricks with the ball. 

“You brought me to a field? When I’m hanging out my arse?” 

“Yes, but not just any field, keep up! Fancy a kick about?” 

Dele did not fancy a kick about. He fancied getting back in the car, finding a McDonald’s, and going home for a shower and a sleep. He fancied laying out in the back of that ridiculous Audi and not waking back up till he was safely delivered back to halls, thank you very much. But there was Eric, smiling so happily, hair flopping in the breeze, eyes lit up with excitement. He’d made them a fucking picnic, if the cooler was anything to go by. He’d brought Dele home. 

Dele ran forward and grabbed the ball from Eric, dropping it to his feet and starting to dribble it up towards the net. He heard Eric sprinting after him, his feet thundering against the grass. He tried to take the ball from Dele but Dele was too quick, turning and scooting the ball out of Eric’s way, laughing breathlessly as he made for the goal once again. Eric gasped indignantly and ran after Dele once more but this time grabbing him, wrapping his arms around Dele’s upper body and hauling him back. 

“Ref!” Dele screamed, flailing in Eric’s arms. “Foul, ref!” 

“You didn’t tell me you were good at football!” Eric shouted back with a grin, dropping Dele in a heap on the floor and chasing back after the ball. “You could’ve fucking mentioned it!” 

Dele got back up and made after Eric. He was faster than Eric was, whippier, and he slid the ball out from under Eric’s feet easily, lining up a shot and pelting the ball against the back of the net. 

“Goal! Dele scores the winner, England win the World Cup!” 

Dele bounded towards Eric with his arms outstretched, leaping on him and wrapping his legs around Eric’s waist. Eric’s hands slid under his thighs seamlessly, taking his weight as if it was second nature. He beamed up at Dele, smiling so big his eyes were crinkled up into little slits. 

“And the crowd goes wild,” Eric said quietly, pressing his mouth to Dele’s. 

Dele barely had the chance to build up a good rhythm before Eric was putting him down again, making space between them and observing Dele carefully. 

“So,” Dele said, pulling his sleeves over his hands. “Tell me about your first goal, superstar.” 

Eric started talking and seemed unable to stop. It was clear to Dele what football meant to Eric - his face changed when he was talking about this, about his childhood on this very field. He was less guarded all of a sudden, more open and childlike. Dele could listen to him tell these stories all day, all week, all his life. Eric wasn’t an annoying self centred prat when he was like this, when they were alone and he was lost in something he enjoyed, something he loved. 

They stopped to eat eventually, Eric producing a blanket from the car. He had made sandwiches and the diagonal cut of them broke Dele’s heart. He didn’t even like ham sandwiches, less so ham and salad cream ones, but he ate it anyway, knee knocking against Eric’s as they chewed in silence. 

“So,” Dele said after a while as he picked at a box of grapes Eric had packed, “whatever happened with your dad?” 

Eric took a swig of water and swilled it around in his mouth like he was thinking. “He heard about the penalties. Texted me telling me it was clear I was wasting everyone’s time.” 

“Dier -“ 

“Nah, it’s - it doesn’t matter. I was thinking maybe he’s right, anyway. Maybe after the final, maybe next year. Maybe I should give it all up anyway.” 

“Oh my god, it matters. Like, I’m not trying to be fake deep, but it matters. Look at you, you clearly fucking love this. And you’re good at it, you must know that?!” 

“Del -“ 

“No, for real. You are so good out there. The way you control the game, you’re vital to the team, you must see that. The entire midfield would fall apart without you! The ability to score a penalty isn’t what makes you a fucking shit hot footballer, Diet. They made you captain for a reason.” 

Eric looked down at his lap, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Dele wondered if he’d overstepped a mark or said something offensive somehow and just as he was about to ask Eric looked up and said “Spend the summer with me at my family’s house in Mallorca.” 

Dele must’ve misheard him, so he said “Come again?” 

“I know, I know it’s crazy. But we’re going out there for six weeks and they don’t care if I bring people, in fact they like it, means I’m kept busy, and I know you hated me not long ago and I know this is a lot, but. I keep thinking about what you said about your mum and I’m - just say yes, Dele.” 

Dele couldn’t seem to make his brain compute. He opened his mouth and closed it again, completely baffled by the earnest look on Eric’s face. “But - I don’t even have a passport?” 

“They’re easy enough. We’ll get you one, it won’t be a problem -“ 

“I can’t afford to give your family rent or anything, and I’d feel bad just scrounging -“ 

“It’s not scrounging, don’t be ridiculous. I’m offering because I want you there, alright? You’d be doing me a favour. Please say yes.” 

How could he say no to that? Dele answered by jumping on top of Eric, tackling him into the blanket and kissing his mouth desperately: yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. They didn’t stop kissing for a while, the sun beating lazily down on them, Dele’s sweater paws framing Eric’s face, Eric’s hands moving lazily up and down his back. 

“Always had fantasies about getting with fit boys on the pitch like this growing up,” Eric mumbled eventually, voice gravelly and thick. 

“Thought you weren’t gay?” Dele answered, smirking. 

“Might be a little bit gay, on second thought.” 

“Yeah, I’ll come to Mallorca.” 

“Good,” Eric said quietly. “Thank you.” 

 

They kicked the ball some more after lunch, messing around and seeing who could hit the cross bar first. Eventually they both were tired and ready to head back to uni. Eric gathered up the stuff and put it back in the car. Dele got back into his seat feeling warm and fuzzy and content, more so than he ever remembered being. He wanted the day to go on forever, to stretch until the edge of the universe. He barely wanted to allow himself to believe that it would be like this all summer - the two of them in the sun, swimming and sunbathing and hanging out for six whole weeks. 

The drive back to uni was nice and relaxing. Dele watched the sun sink low in the sky out the window, glancing occasionally at Eric’s profile as he drove. He looked so fit, so unbelievably good looking. Dele was in awe of him - utterly disbelieving that they were doing this. He couldn’t help but reach over and place his fingers on Eric’s thigh, letting his finger trail lazy patterns. 

Eric glanced over at him. “You okay?” 

“Mmm,” Dele said, tilting his head forward. “You look really good, that’s all.” 

“I thought you thought I was ugly this whole time,” Eric laughed, glancing over his shoulder and merging into the slow lane. 

“I do,” Dele said, fingers moving higher. “I meant you look good for an ugly guy.” Dele dragged his fingers carefully over Eric’s dick, breath hitching at the feel of him hardening up through his joggers. “Also, this car. It’s pretty sexy. You have a pretty sexy car.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I want to give you a blow job in your stupid sexy car, Dier.” 

“God, that’s an inconvenience,” Eric said, hand gripping the steering wheel. “Do you have to?” 

“Yeah, I have to,” Dele answered, fingers looping in Eric’s waistband. “Lift.” 

Eric raised his hips enough for Dele to lower his trousers a bit, tricky under the circumstances but somehow they managed. Dele blew him like he had something to prove; like he wanted to say thank you. Like he wanted to show Eric how much the day meant to him. It was a miracle they didn’t crash, but somehow Eric managed to keep them safe, even with a hand on the back of Dele’s neck, steadying him. Eric came with a breathy moan down Dele’s throat, his control over the car never wavering. 

When they got back to campus it was dusk and Dele was exhausted but Eric was looking at him with dark eyes, silently asking if he could come up. They parked the car and went into Dele’s flat together, Dele clinging privately to Eric’s pinky finger. Dele pushed Eric onto his bed and kissed him into the pillows for a while, hot and breathless. 

Dele managed to prise himself away, standing up with his head swimming, clearly so hard in his jeans, and announced he needed to go and shower. 

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Eric assured. “And don’t touch yourself in the shower.” 

Dele nearly came in his pants then and there. He nodded and took his towel off to the bathroom, flicking on the water and turning to lukewarm. He paused with his head against the cool shower door, breathing in and out slowly, his dick erect and curving upwards. It took all his strength not to play with it, all his self control just to wash his body down (using rose jam, of course) and not put a hand on himself. 

When he walked back into his room in his boxers Eric was lying back against the pillows with one arm propped behind his head, face the picture of calm composure. 

“I want to get you off,” Eric said casually, sitting up properly. “I want to make you feel good.” 

Not for the first time, Dele was rendered speechless, any game he thought he had disappearing. He just nodded eagerly, as if it wasn’t already clear from the big erection in his pants that he was so interested in whatever Eric had to offer. Eric shuffled forward to the edge of the bed, reaching out and pulling Dele closer. He leaned in and pressed three painstaking kisses to the soft skin of his stomach, the hair of his fringe tickling Dele. 

Dele watched in awe as Eric dropped to his knees, his finger tips curling in the waist band of Dele’s boxers. Dele let his hand come to curl against Eric’s cheek, this thumb swiping gently against his skin. Eric’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact and he sighed blissfully, leaning into Dele’s palm. 

“I don’t know how good I’ll be at this,” Eric said, looking up with wide eyes. “Let me know if you don’t like what I’m doing.” 

Dele nodded and then Eric was pulling his pants down, face to face with Dele’s dick. He took a deep breath and took it in his mouth and Dele was in heaven - warm and wet, tight and intense, and the sight of him alone - Dele moaned gutturally before he could stop himself. All the noise did was make Eric go harder, deeper, his eyes on Dele’s. 

Eric pulled back after a few moments, line of spit connecting his mouth and Dele’s dick, and said “I really want to fuck you, like I want to fuck you so bad,” and Dele could only blink at him as Eric jacked him off and Dele came all over Eric’s hand, the carpet, and his own stomach. 

Dele pulled him up and kissed him with a hand on Eric’s chin, his eyebrows tugged down in concentration. Dele was overcome with emotion, with a sense of affection and desperation - he wanted to tell Eric what this meant to him, what the whole day had meant to him, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead he let it come through in the way he was clinging to Eric’s skin, the way he was licking into his mouth, the way he was breathing in Eric’s carbon dioxide like he’d suffocate if he didn’t. 

“I told you no body likes you the other week,” Eric mumbled, his own eyes remaining closed as he did it. “I didn’t mean that. I just wanted to hurt someone. I lie awake at night thinking of it.” 

“Shut up,” Dele said, pulling Eric down onto the bed. “Don’t feel guilty. You don’t have to feel bad. You don’t ever have to feel bad.” 

“You don’t deserve it,” Eric said into Dele’s neck. “You’re amazing and so many people love you,” he gasped, voice breaking like he was on the verge of tears. “You’re so fucking special.” 

Dele held Eric so tight, tight enough that he could imagine he was fusing their bodies together so he’d never have to be without Eric again. Tight enough that it felt like through sheer force of will he could merge all of the things that had ever made him sad with this new thing, this person who was making him feel levels of happiness and safety he didn’t know were possible. 

The only reason he wasn’t embarrassed when he started crying was that he could feel Eric crying, too. 

— 

Jesse phoned Dele and asked if they could go for lunch two days after the trip to the football field. 

“I need to speak to you,” he said on the phone. “I need to tell you something.” 

If Jesse was a girl, Dele would’ve bet he was pregnant. As it was Jesse had no womb to speak of and so Dele headed off to meet him with a weird sense of foreboding in his chest. Jesse was rarely serious but he’d sounded suspiciously so on the phone. Dele didn’t want anything to burst the bubble he was floating in, couldn’t stand the thought of something taking him down off the fluffy pink cloud he was living on. 

Eric’s final game of the season was happening tomorrow and he was exhausted trying to fit everything in, falling into Dele’s bed late at night and cuddling sleepily until he fell asleep. Dele watched him, his face peaceful and angelic, and felt that he’d probably go to the ends of the earth if Eric asked him to. 

Dele felt the golden hue of his last couple weeks dim as he sat down opposite Jesse. 

“Alright?” 

“Del,” Jesse said, smiling tightly. “What’s happening?” 

“Not much, the usual. How you feeling for the politics exam?” 

“Feeling fucked,” Jesse laughed, a bit of the tightness in his shoulders loosening. “Probably picked the worst possible time to get myself a boyfriend.” 

“How’s Marcus feeling about the final?” 

“He’s feeling good, actually. Thinks they’re gonna win. I’m going to meet his mum and dad, they’re coming up to see the game.” 

“Holy fuck, proper serious that.” 

“I know, I’m shitting meself.” 

“They’ll love you,” Dele smiled. “So - what’s going on?” 

Jesse shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked down at his nails. “I’ve heard something about Eric.” 

“Jesse -“ 

“I dunno if he’s who you think he is, Del -“ 

“And you know, do you? I’m not fucking listening to this Jesse. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what people tell you or what they think they know. I know him, I’ve seen him. I’ve seen a side of him no one else does. I’m fucking sick of everyone else trying to get involved!” 

“But Dele, I think you should -“ 

“I said I don’t want to fucking hear it, Jesse!” Dele shouted, slapping his hand down on the table. “I’m the happiest I’ve been and you’re all trying to take it away from me because what, I don’t go out enough anymore? There’s no one to laugh at for doing stupid shit? Too fucking bad! Find a new clown!” 

A waitress approached the table, smiling breezily. “Hi guys, I’m Emma and I’ll be looking after you today. Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Actually, I’m just leaving,” Dele said, pushing out of his chair. “See you later.” 

Jesse called after him as he left, but Dele didn’t turn around. He couldn’t stand the look in Jesse’s eyes. 

— 

Dele woke up the day of the final match with Eric wrapped around him, radiating heat and snoring gently against the back of Dele’s neck. 

He’d come over late the night before, sleepy and quiet after another busy day. Dele didn’t dare bring up his conversation with Jesse for fear of upsetting Eric or popping their little bubble. Instead they got into bed and kissed lazily until Eric fell asleep. Dele mapped out the veins on Eric’s eyelids carefully, following each road until it disappeared and he too was tumbling into unconsciousness. 

As he lay there in Eric’s arms that morning he became acutely aware of Eric’s erection pressing against the small of his back, hard and insistent. Dele hummed and shifted his hips back so that it was sliding between his clothed cheeks, biting down hard on his bottom lip and squeezing his eyes closed. 

Eric stirred behind him, his hand pressing flat against Dele’s stomach as he took in his surroundings. Eric put his lips to the back of Dele’s neck, his hips snapping forward in tiny motions. 

“Good morning,” he said against Dele’s skin, voice impossibly deep and thick with sleep. “‘M not hard cos of you. Definitely don’t fancy you at all.” 

Dele laughed breathlessly, his own hand covering Eric’s. “Probably dreaming about yourself that did it,” he countered, pushing back experimentally. “Imagining yourself lifting the trophy tonight.” 

“That does turn me on, actually. God, you’re so fucking hot,” he said, voice muffled against Dele’s neck. “Wanna fuck you so bad.” 

Dele didn’t trust his own voice not to be utterly pathetic so he just groaned in response, pushing back more purposefully, beginning to move Eric’s hand lower. Eric kissed him once more and then sat up, putting a stop to everything, checking the time on his watch. 

“I need to go home and get ready,” he said, grinning. “Come over tonight? After the game?” 

Dele watched Eric get out of bed with a pout. “Not gonna invite me to come see the match?” 

Eric frowned as he pulled on his trainers. “I just... it’s different when we’re playing away. Like, it’s just the lads that are going. Jesse’s just tagging along with Rashy’s mum -“ 

“I know, I know. I was kidding,” Dele said, feeling self conscious. “I hate watching you play footie.” 

Eric stood up and crossed the room, bending down and kissing Dele on the forehead. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“Only if you win.” 

Eric crossed to the door, grinning over his shoulder at Dele as he turned the handle. 

“Diet?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Good luck today. You’re going to be amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Eric said, smiling sincerely before he left. 

** 

Dele was keeping an eye on the score via the Python’s twitter account. It was deep into the second half and still the score was 0-0, both teams utterly unable to unlock each other’s defence. Eric had received a yellow in the first five minutes which made Dele laugh, but as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened, Dele knew Eric would be growing frustrated. 

If the game went to penalties Dele didn’t think Eric would cope under the pressure. He couldn’t sit still, nerves ripping through his system. Dele wanted to text Jesse and ask but he knew he couldn’t, not after their meeting the day before. He simultaneously felt utterly alone and utterly at peace, the way Eric made him feel when they were together only contrasted by how alone he felt with everyone’s reaction to their being together. 

As the 90 minutes approached Dele put his phone down and went to the kitchen for something to do. He opened the fridge and peered in at the things his flatmates owned, half of it labelled with their names. Dele rolled his eyes and stuck his finger in someone’s humous, licking at it and screwing his face up in disgust. He took a swig of horse girl’s milk straight from the carton and walked meekly back to his room, afraid to pick up his phone. 

He opened Twitter with his heart in his mouth, and there it was - GOAL! Eric Dier, 90+2. Dele screamed, fist punching the air - there was only two minutes left of game play, and they’d done it - Eric had fucking done it. 

Dele didn’t even bother texting Eric. He jumped up and pulled on his shoes, hands shaking with anticipation. He threw supplies in his backpack and then ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

** 

When the boys arrived back at their house, Dele was sat on the doorstep waiting. 

They spilled out of Eric’s Audi with tangible energy and excitement, shouting and cheering loudly. John spotted Dele first, nudging Eric and nodding over at the house. Eric’s face softened when he saw Dele, his eyes dropping as John ribbed him teasingly. 

“Coming out to celebrate, Dele?” John called, pulling his training bag from the trunk. “Gonna reward your captain?” 

Kane sniggered and Eric threw him a death glare. “Shut up, guys,” he said, locking the car and walking up the garden path. “Alright?” He said to Dele, cheeks pink. 

“Not bad. Couldn’t have scored any earlier, could you?” 

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, unlocking the door. Dele could feel energy radiating off him in waves. 

“I think we should discuss your tactics,” Dele said quietly, starting up the stairs. “I’ve got some pointers.” 

“I’ll be right there,” Eric replied, his eyes already dark. “Give me a moment.” 

Dele walked up the stairs to catcalls and the sound of Eric hissing “Shut the fuck up.” He opened Eric’s door and took a deep breath, kicking off his shoes, stretching out his arms. He was full of excitement and nerves, feeling like some kind of teenage virgin. 

It took Eric forever to come upstairs, but when he did they came together instantly, unable to keep their hands off each other. Eric kissed his way down Dele’s throat, already hard, teeth sinking in when Dele palmed him through his shorts. 

“Want you now,” Dele said breathily, tongue flicking against the shell of Eric’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Diet. You fucking - you won, god.” 

“I want you too, so bad,” Eric said, walking Dele back against the bed. “What’s it like, Del? Is it different than with a girl?” 

Dele opened up his legs and let Eric lie between them, pulling him down by the back of his neck, licking into his mouth again. They rubbed against each other for a few moments, both so hard and needy. 

“It’s better,” Dele said eventually, forehead against Eric’s. “It’s different. It’s so good.” 

Eric bit his lip and pulled Dele’s shirt over his head, splaying his hands up his ribs, licking at a nipple. “Everything’s better with you,” he said. “Everything. You make everything better for me.” 

Dele keened as Eric pulled off his trousers, settling between his thighs and sucking the downy skin on the inside of his knee. He lifted his hips dutifully when Eric removed his boxers, moving his own fist slowly over his hard cock, smiling when Eric batted his hand away and took over territorially. Eric worked his hand over Dele’s dick slowly, moving back to take him in properly. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said. “Was imagining you like this the minute I first saw you, standing in the kitchen being a twat. Imagining having you in my bed like this, so pretty and needy and turned on. I’ve wanted you for so long,” he babbled, cheeks impossibly pink, face impossibly open. 

“You make me so happy,” Dele said, looking up at Eric from the mattress. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way.” 

“I want to make you happy,” Eric nodded. “All I want to do is make you happy.” 

“The bag in the corner,” Dele said, nodding towards the floor. “There’s lube and condoms. You’ll need to prep me.” 

Eric got up and took off his own clothes, pulling at his own dick a couple of times so Dele could see how hard he was. He was back seconds later with the stuff, sucking down on Dele’s hip, kissing him on the mouth. 

“Show me,” he breathed, uncapping the lube and handing it to Dele. 

Dele squirted some over Eric’s middle finger, propping himself up on his elbow. Eric never took his eyes from Dele’s, never faltered. Dele took Eric’s hand by the wrist and moved it down, lining it up, and pushing in the slick finger. Both of them gasped at the feel of it. Dele held Eric’s hand still as he acclimatised to the stretch, moving it deeper. 

“You can let go,” Eric said, spare hand on Dele’s side. “I’ve got it.” 

Dele trusted him. He let go, let Eric work him open carefully, marvelling at the feel of it. It wasn’t long before Dele was whining and wriggling enough for Eric to insert a second lubed finger, sliding it alongside the first, scissoring them knowingly. 

Dele could hardly breathe when Eric pulled his fingers out and started opening a condom, his hands steady. He rolled it on, so hard he was leaking precome steadily, his chest flushed with want. Eric leaned down and covered Dele’s body with his, kissing him slowly, taking their time. 

“You sure?” Eric said, pulling back and looking into Dele’s eyes. 

“Will you still speak to me after this?” Dele said suddenly, unable to hold it in. “Will you still care about me?” 

“Oh my god, Del,” Eric said, eyebrows tugging down. “Of course I will. Of course I will, baby.” 

Dele’s eyes fluttered closed at the words, soothing him like balm on a wound. “Please put it in me,” he said. “Please get inside me right now.” 

Eric propped his forehead against Dele’s, locking eyes as he lined up and carefully, carefully pushed in, as far as he could, barely breathing, eyes widening like he’d seen a ghost. “Fuck,” he gasped, dropping his head down into Dele’s neck, hand scrambling to find Dele’s and link their fingers together like an anchor. “Fuck, fuck. You - I - I love you, Dele,” he said, his voice cracking again. “I love you.” 

Dele stared up at the ceiling, his heart thundering so hard he knew Eric could hear it. He felt his throat tighten with tears, his free hand clutching at Eric’s hair. “You can move,” he said, clenching down around Eric inside him. “You can move now.” 

And Eric did, hips beginning to find a rhythm, banging against Dele’s prostate every other thrust, both of them gasping into each other’s space, the bed frame hitting against the wall like the beat of Dele’s heart. 

“I won’t last long,” Eric managed, words garbled like he was struggling to string a sentence together. “Not gonna last very long.” 

“It’s okay,” Dele reassured. “Come whenever you want, come for me. Come on, Eric.” 

It must’ve been the use of his first name that did it because Eric bit down on Dele’s shoulder and pistoned his hips in once, twice, stopping on a moan, cock pulsing inside Dele’s body. When he was done he let go of Dele’s hand and moved between their bodies, finding Dele’s dick and squeezing it enough times to have Dele spilling all over his stomach and Eric’s fist, his hand so tight in Eric’s hair it must’ve hurt. 

They lay there panting for a while, Eric still inside Dele. Dele could’ve stayed like that for the rest of his life, but eventually it grew uncomfortable and Eric had to pull out. He was removing the condom when Dele put his hand on Eric’s cheek and turned his face so that they were making eye contact. 

“I love you too.” 

Eric’s eyes moved between Dele’s in awe, his eyebrows pulling down slightly. He nodded, nodded his acknowledgement, and kissed Dele hard on the mouth. 

 

They showered together, Dele moving tentatively, much to Eric’s amusement. Eric brought beer upstairs and they washed each other’s hair whilst laughing at nothing and sipping coronas, both feeling that they’d be content to celebrate on their own in Eric’s room, but should probably go out and join the party. 

Dele listened to Eric recount the match details with the biggest smile on his face, replaying the moment he scored the winner so enthusiastically it made Dele’s heart burst. They got dressed and left the house hand in hand, contained on cloud 9, pausing every few feet to lay kisses on each other’s mouths. 

The football team had rented out a room at one of the student friendly pubs in town, and when Dele and Eric entered the place erupted, everyone jumping on Eric and spraying beer and chanting his name like the hero he was. 

Dele found Jesse and pulled him into a hug. “Can we forget about the other day?” He asked, and Jesse nodded, hugging him back even tighter. “Good. What you drinking?” 

Dele got them both a shot of sambucca, laughing at Jesse’s tale of meeting Marcus’s mum whilst looking over at Eric being surrounded and praised just how he deserved. 

Dele made his way over after a while, buzzed off the things he’d drunk and the high of being in love, endorphins making him dizzy. He went and stood at Eric’s side as he chatted with John and Maguire, waiting for a pause in the conversation to catch Eric’s attention. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, tipsy and happy. “So proud of you, Diet.” 

“Come sit down,” Eric said self consciously, clearly aware of John and Harry’s eyes on them. “Let’s sit down and talk.” 

“Okay,” Dele grinned, squeezing Eric’s forearm. “I love you.” 

Dele wasn’t prepared for the way Eric’s face froze, suddenly looking at him in horror, eyes wide. Fuck, Dele thought. Maybe that was a bit full on. Maybe Eric wanted to keep things private for a little while longer - 

“No fuckin’ way! Dier won the league and the bet in the same night!” John shouted, clapping his hands together loudly. “No fucking way!” 

Dele looked from John to Eric slowly, mind a bit foggy. 

“Shut the fuck up, Stonesy!” Eric growled, pulling Dele by the hand, trying to move him away. “I mean it, shut the -“ 

“Two grand, Dier, you’re a lucky boy!” 

“What’s going on?” Dele said, taking his hand out of Eric’s grip. “What bet?” 

“Awkward,” Stones laughed, elbowing Maguire in the side. “Tell him, Eric.” 

“Dele, let’s go - John’s drunk, he’s being a cunt, come with me, let me -“ 

“What fucking bet, Eric?!” Dele shouted, his arms going numb. “Please don’t - please don’t say it’s got something to do with me. Eric, please -“ 

“Let’s go, Del,” Jesse said suddenly, hand on Dele’s shoulder. “You’re all fucking disgusting.” 

“What fucking bet!” Dele bellowed, looking at Eric searchingly, desperately, sure he was going to throw up then and there. “What fucking bet?” 

“We bet Dier 2 grand he couldn’t make you fall in love with him. Took our inspiration from your little bet, actually, cheers for that.” 

Dele looked at Eric, vision blurring with tears. Eric was staring at him dumbly, looking pained, looking like he’d been petrified. “Eric? Is that true?” 

“Just let me explain -“ 

“Oh my god,” Dele said, nauseous. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” 

“Come on,” Jesse said, pulling Dele through the silent party. “Fuck you, Dier.” 

“Dele, please,” Eric said, voice catching on a sob. “Please -“ 

“Shut the fuck up!” Jesse barked, throwing Eric daggers. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

The last thing Dele heard was John shouting that they’d started it, that they’d lay down the initial bet, before Jesse had him outside and he was throwing up in a flower pot. 

“I’m so sorry, Del -“ 

“Don’t be,” Dele said, digging his nails into his hands so hard he knew there would be four little crescent moons there tomorrow. “Everyone tried to tell me. Whatever. It’s whatever. I don’t care.” He took out his phone, scrolling to Harry’s name with a shaking thumb, hitting the wrong contact twice before he managed it. 

“Harry? What you up to? Let’s get fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleethe don’t kill me xxx


	6. Chapter 6

Dele took one look at Harry when he unlocked the front door and his face crumpled. Harry let out a quiet groan and grabbed him into his arms, holding him tight, shushing him gently. 

“Is it Dier?” Harry said to Jesse, who was lingering awkwardly behind them. “I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll fucking -“ 

“Not if I kill him first,” Jesse snapped, pushing his way into Harry’s flat. “Fuck me, he’s a cunt.” 

Harry ushered Dele inside, arm around his shoulders as he ugly cried. 

“I should’ve listened,” Dele said, hyperventilating. “Should’ve listened to you -“ 

“You did nothing wrong, Del,” Jesse said, guiding him to the sofa and pushing him down. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. This is on him.” 

“What’s wrong with me?” Dele gasped, looking between his friends with blurry eyes. “What’s wrong with me that someone would want to do something so cruel?” 

“What’d he do?” Harry asked Jesse, his expression furious. 

“He - there was a bet. Make Del fall in love or something.” 

“You’re in love with him?” Harry asked, raising a brow. “Fuck, that’s so out of order.” 

Dele could only nod sadly, jumping when his leg started vibrating. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked down at the name on the screen, embarrassed by the bloom of happiness he felt seeing the words ‘Diet calling’. 

“That him?” 

“Yeah,” Dele sniffled, rejecting the call and turning his phone face down. “You got any hard drugs?” 

“No, Del. We’re not doing that. Any other time, but not now. I’m not going to let you self destruct over a fucking idiot like him.” 

Dele blinked at Harry and Jesse, feeling utterly exhausted. “Why has he done this?” 

“Honestly, Del?” Harry said, sitting down heavily next to him on the sofa. “He’ll have been trying to one up you after our bet. They’re footie lads, they’re competitive. I don’t think it was that they wanted to see you heartbroken, even if they are knob heads. It’s more about them than it is you.” 

Dele’s phone started vibrating again. He rejected the call and then turned his phone off, sliding down horizontally so that his head was in Harry’s lap. 

“He said all this... stuff to me. I think he was just telling me what I wanted to hear.” 

Harry put his hand on Dele’s shoulder and rubbed it reassuringly. “You can’t trust people like him. Rich people, posh people, silver spoon people. He’s from a different world than we’re used to, mate.” 

“We had sex.” 

Harry and Jesse said nothing to that. Jesse flopped down on the arm chair opposite and the three of them sat in silence for a while, just the sound of Dele sniffling against Harry’s thigh filling the room. The last thing Dele remembered before he dozed off was Jesse saying that he had to go and see Marcus, but that he’d check in in the morning. Dele didn’t fight sleep when it came for him. He leaned into unconsciousness eagerly, desperate to not have to think about how badly his heart hurt anymore. 

**

Dele woke up at the crack of dawn, sunlight streaming in through Harry’s living room windows. He lay stationary on the couch for a while, staring unblinking at the floor, processing the events of the previous night: Eric telling him he loved him when he was inside him; the feeling that their connection was solidified, cemented. Eric kissing him against the bathroom tiles, mouth metallic with beer. Eric rubbing a soapy hand over Dele’s stomach and looking down at him like he was something precious. Eric’s face flashing with fear when Dele told him he loved him. John’s leering face as he revelled in Dele’s misfortune. 

Dele couldn’t think about it without feeling like he was going to suffocate, so he got up and walked to the kitchen, digging through Harry’s cupboards for some paracetamol. He took two and stole three jaffacakes, eating them one after the other in quick succession on his way to Harry’s room. 

Dele let Harry’s door click softly behind him and padded over to his bed, lifting the covers and sliding in with a puff of breath. Harry began to stir, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Dele, thumbing at the base of his neck. Dele felt his lips quivering and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from crying like a baby. 

“You’re utterly amazing, Del,” Harry said, a half conscious whisper. “Wish you could see that.” 

Dele managed another hour of sleep before Harry’s alarm woke them both up, shrill and sudden. Harry turned it off and observed Dele carefully, his hair messy with sleep. 

“How you feeling, big guy?” 

Dele managed a shrug. “Been better.” 

“Last politics seminar of the year in an hour. Come with me then we’ll get breakfast afterwards? I’ll buy you pancakes.” 

“Better than sitting in my room wanting to top myself,” Dele answered, smiling half heartedly at Harry. “Can I borrow a clean top?” 

They showered and headed out to class together, Dele with one of Harry’s caps pulled down over his brow. 

“What the fuck does Leo Fortis mean anyway?” Dele complained, motioning to the black hat on his head. “What’s wrong with a Nike cap like everyone else?” 

“That footballer brought them out after the World Cup. The one everyone used to accuse of diving.” 

“I dunno what you’re on about,” Dele muttered, shaking his head. “Seems a bit naff to me.” 

“Everything’s naff to you,” Harry joked, shoving Dele in the back gently. “Too cool for school.” 

They filtered into their seminar only a couple of minutes late, earning disapproving glares from professor Van Dijk. Dele almost wanted to laugh at the predictability of it, taking a pen and a bit of paper from Harry with a faint smirk on his face. 

The class was mostly revision and consolidation, and Dele made a point of taking notes, scribbling pointers Van Dijk was giving them, bullet pointing things he’d never heard of and should probably google before the exam.

“It’s been a pleasure teaching most of you the last few months,” the professor said at the end of the class, standing with his hands on his hips. “Thank you for coming to class prepared and ready to learn. Best of luck with the exam, and don’t be a stranger. Oh! And the Lammy internship closes tomorrow at midnight. I do recommend applying for it, it’s an incredible opportunity for members of our course and I can’t overstate the benefits of such an experience highly enough.” 

Dele looked at Harry out the corner of his eye and frowned. “The what internship?” 

“Some MP called David Lammy. He does a fully funded internship over the summer apparently.” 

“Oh.” 

They packed up their stuff, Dele folding his paper in his back pocket, and traipsed out of the classroom, neither of them bothering to hang back and thank their professor. 

Harry stuck to his word, taking Dele to a greasy spoon and ordering him a stack of American style chocolate chip pancakes and a fry up for himself. Dele didn’t feel like eating but he gave it a good go anyway, pouring enough syrup over the fluffy pancakes that his teeth began to ache. 

“You gonna talk to him?” Harry asked around a mouthful of egg, pointing his fork at Dele. 

“Eventually,” Dele said. “I think if I speak to him now I’ll end up punching him in the face.” 

“Fair one,” Harry said. “You know, when I was telling you - when I was being a cunt about it all. I didn’t think anything like this would happen, Del. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t say sorry,” Dele replied. “Don’t say sorry for looking out for me. I appreciate you more than you know, Harry.” 

“Always gonna be on your team, Del. All of us - Jesse, Tripps, me. We’re always on your team.” 

“Stop before I cry again,” Dele laughed, feeling his chest constrict. “Don’t make me cry in a caf.” 

Harry knocked his ankle against Dele’s reassuringly and went back to eating his breakfast in silence. 

Jesse came barrelling into the cafe ten minutes later, Trippier on his heels. 

“And I was like - you have to be yourself. Be your fucking self!” Jesse cried, pulling a chair up to the table and sitting on it backwards, lifting half of Dele’s soggy pancake with his fingers and sticking it in his mouth in one go. “Sorry, were you going to eat that?” He said to Dele, barely understandable with his mouth full of food. 

Dele laughed and pushed the plate to Jesse, shaking his head. “Go for it.” 

“How you doing, mate?” Kieran said, leaning down and pulling Dele into a bear hug. 

“Not bad,” Dele said, breathing in the familiar scent of lynx and Marlboro light on Kieran’s clothes. “Surviving.” 

“Jesse, use a fucking fork will you?!” Harry snapped indignantly as Jesse continued eating with his fingers. “You’re worse than a baby!” 

“God gave us fingers for a reason, Hickford! Do one!” 

Dele sat back and watched his best friends bicker over the intended use for fingers with a smile on his face. Being with them didn’t completely eradicate the heaviness in his chest but it certainly loosened it - Dele took them in, each of them with their flaws and positives, each of them perfectly imperfect, and felt for a second that maybe his love would have somewhere to go to after all. 

A few moments passed and Jesse grew serious, looking at Dele carefully. “You spoken to him?” Dele shook his head. “I saw him. At the house, this morning. Do you want to -“ 

“Don’t wanna know,” Dele said, smiling tightly. “Not right now. Sorry, Jess.” 

“Nah, understandable. But - I do have to tell you. Tripps keyed his car.” 

“What?!” 

Kieran grinned proudly. “I wrote ‘I bet this fucks you off ya twat’ on his bonnet!” 

“Oh my god, Tripps,” Dele groaned, half laughing. “Not the Audi.” 

“Audi?” Kieran said, looking from Dele to Jesse. “You said the Clio was Dier’s!” 

“No I didn’t!” Jesse exclaimed. “The Clio is Kane’s!” 

“Fuck!” Kieran’s face turned white. “Shit! He’s the only one who’s not a total cunt!” 

Dele laughed then, and it was genuine. It was genuine and somehow, it eased up the pain. 

** 

Being around his friends made things appear better than they really were, Dele soon learned. 

After breakfast they hung out in the SU together, Dele glancing at the door more than he cared to admit. Eventually they had to go their separate ways, though. Harry offered Dele to stay at his again, and Tripps said he’d come watch Netflix with him if he wanted, but Dele politely declined. He needed a bit of time and space, he said. 

That was all well and good until he actually had time and space. His room managed to remind him cruelly of Eric, his scent lingering on the sheets, an empty bottle of strawberry Volvic he’d been drinking sitting on the desk. Dele took his sheets and washed them twice, costing him five quid on the rentable machines but, he felt, worth it. Then he dressed his bed again and cleaned the rest of the room, sorting out his clothes, throwing out rubbish, taking the hoover over the carpets for the first time in weeks. 

When he’d folded his laundry and done everything possible to his bedroom, Dele fell back against the bed and cried, the ache in his chest rearing its head and demanding attention. He and Eric hadn’t even gotten the chance to get started. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

Dele wondered how he’d got it so wrong. Eric had told him all those things, had opened up to him, had been vulnerable and honest, hadn’t he? Dele couldn’t work out if Eric meant it when he said he loved him. Was that part of the act, part of a plot to make Dele say the words so Eric’d be two grand richer? Dele trusted him though, and couldn’t understand how someone could go to the lengths Eric had - he’d been buried inside him to the hilt, for fucks sake - just to win a stupid bet. 

Dele jumped when the buzzer started going at the front door. He curled up and put his hands over his ears, hoping it wouldn’t be for him, praying it was someone else. But then there was a knocking at his bedroom door, insistent and clearly frustrated, and he had to get up. He opened the door to find horse girl - Amy, he had to remember her name was Amy - glaring up at him. 

“Your boyfriend is at the door. AGAIN.” 

“I - he’s not my boyfriend,” Dele said sadly. 

“Oh. Well, can you just -“ 

“Can you tell him I’m not in, Amy? Please.” 

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “You okay?” 

Dele shook his head. “Not really. But I will be. I’d just really appreciate it if you said I wasn’t here right now.” 

“Okay. Fine,” she said, her expression softening. “You know - we’re all always here for you. If you ever need anything or that.” 

Dele felt bad for drinking her milk, then. He smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Amy.” 

He flopped back down on his bed. There was a big part of him that wanted to let Eric up, to hear the excuses and the reasoning, to be held close. He knew it could all go away in seconds, minutes, the pain disappearing like sky writing as Eric kissed him better, put his hands on him, connected the bits of themselves that were better together. 

Dele wasn’t naive, though. He knew that although the hurt would dissipate in the short term it’d be there in the long, lurking round corners, paranoia that there was something else, some new caveat, some other bet. The thought that Eric had kept it going, would maybe have taken the money. The fear that he’d even discussed Dele with his housemates, nights spent laughing in the living room over his insecurities, the size of his dick, the way he whimpered when Eric moved away in the night. 

What Dele needed wasn’t quick excuses and instant gratification, however much that was what he craved. Eric’s side of the story would come - maybe he’d admit it was all a farce. Maybe he’d beg for forgiveness. Whatever one it would be, Dele wasn’t ready for it yet. 

**

He lay in bed for a long time doing nothing, letting his mind go round and round in circles. It occurred to him that he no longer had a place to go for the summer, and he was about to text Harry and ask if he could crash at his for a couple of weeks when he remembered professor Van Dijk’s words earlier. 

Dele dug his laptop out from under a pile of notebooks, tutting when he noticed it had no battery and he didn’t have a clue where the charger was. He got up and dug around until he found it down the back of his bed, plugging the thing in and listening to it whirr alive. Dele opened Chrome and searched David Lammy MP summer internship, hitting enter and chewing on his thumb nail. 

He found the application pretty easily - all he had to do was submit a CV, the contact details of two referees and a cover letter detailing why he was right for the job. It paid London living wage and said that travel costs could be reimbursed. All Dele would have to do was find a place to stay. 

He didn’t even have a CV, though, and he didn’t have the first clue what to put in a cover letter. The last job he’d had was down the JD Sports when he was 16, and he’d been sacked from that for turning up half cut on an inspection day. Plus, there were bound to be plenty of people who had proper experience, who knew people who could put a word in. Dele didn’t even know what an MP’s staffer did. 

He closed the laptop and pushed it to the end of the bed, falling back against the pillows and sighing, and then he thought - hold on a minute. Why NOT him? Why the hell shouldn’t it be him? He was studying at a prestigious university same as everyone else. He cared about politics and the working class. He would learn, he would work hard. And he had nothing to lose. 

Dele opened up the laptop again, and searched for a CV template. He followed its guidance - name, contact details, school grades, university. He didn’t have much work experience, but he knew how to talk up the JD thing, how to exaggerate the one time he’d volunteered at a parents evening at school. With that done he opened a new word document and started the task of crafting a cover letter. 

It was fucking brutal. He knew Eric probably knew how to write one of these, and the thought aggrieved him. Harry and Jesse wouldn’t have a clue, and Tripps was unreliable. What was he supposed to say? What were the buzzwords Lammy would be looking for? 

In the end Dele decided to go with an honest approach. If he got an interview, fabulous. If he didn’t, he wasn’t losing anything. He began typing and twenty minutes later had something he figured would stand out, at the very least: 

Dear Mr Lammy, 

The opportunity to take part in your summer internship programme presented itself to me through my university politics course, and I knew instantly there would be no better way to spend my summer. 

In a country so fraught with issues like Brexit, climate change and the rise of the far right, I feel there is no more important time to get to grips with the world of real politics - with the issues facing your constituents, however small they may be. 

The chance to learn under someone I admire as greatly as yourself would be invaluable to me, and hopefully would set me up for a long career in politics, helping real working class people to thrive, making their lives easier by the work their elected officials can do. 

I’m a hard working, determined individual and I know I would thrive as part of your team, soaking up any and all lessons I can and making a real difference this summer. 

Thank you for taking the time to consider my application, and I look forward to hearing from you. 

Best wishes, 

Dele Alli 

Ps. I had my heart broken by a Tory recently. 

 

Dele saved the file, attached it to his email along with his new CV, and clicked send. 

— 

He spent the next two days crying, lying on his back in bed, and seeing how long he could go without thinking of Eric Dier. 

— 

On the fourth day Dele got up and showered, which was progress, and turned his phone back on with a thumping heart. There were 42 missed calls and 15 texts from Eric alone, a text from an unknown number, and over a hundred missed WhatsApp notifications from the boy’s group chat. 

Dele opened the unknown number text first. It said ‘It’s John. Just want to apologise for the other night. Have spoken to Eric n it clear I got things wrong. Would love to have a chat in person and say sorry face to face. Wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone.’ 

Dele deleted it and moved onto the texts from Eric with a shaking hand. 

Diet:   
Where are you? Let me talk to you please 

Dele I’m worried, can you please answer the phone? You’ll understand once I explain 

Is your phone off? No one will tell me anything I’m panicking 

Okay, fine, I understand you don’t want to talk, but I think if you heard me out it   
would change things I really didn’t mean for that to happen 

Last night between us was the best moment of my life and I meant what I said 

I’m coming over can you just see me please 

Please 

Someone keyed Harry’s car can they fucking not do that 

Sorry, not your fault, I know 

Dele please, please let me explain. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I didn’t think it would turn out like this 

Are you still coming to Mallorca? 

I’ll be waiting for you outside the library tonight until 10 please just come and speak to me 

Can you just let me know your safe 

Okay so you don’t want to talk, I get it. I can wait

Whenever your ready I’ll be here 

Dele’s breath shuddered and he was crying again, hands over his face, shoulders shaking with it. He felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, arms numbing, vision blurring, and before he knew it he was across the hall, banging on Amy’s door, certain that if he didn’t see another human being right then and there he was going to die. 

She opened the door in her dressing gown, glasses askew on her nose, and took in the sight of Dele with a look of horror. 

“What the hell?!” 

“I can’t - I can’t breathe - panic attack,” Dele managed, leaning against the door frame. “Can’t -“ 

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, reaching out and squeezing his wrist tight. “Hold on,” she said, disappearing into her room again and reappearing a moment later with a fluffy blanket and a plush Lotso Huggin’ Bear, the pink teddy bear from Toy Story 3. “Come with me,” she said, guiding Dele into the living room. 

She sat him down on the sofa, tugging the blanket around his shoulders and pressing the bear into his arms. “Smell his belly,” she commanded. “Smells like strawberries.” 

Dele tentatively brought the bear to his face and sniffed, and Amy was right, the thing did smell like strawberries. It was nice and grounding, soft and soothing. 

“Milk and sugar?” 

Dele looked at Amy questioningly. 

“In your tea?” 

“Oh - yeah,” he managed, closing his eyes and taking another deep whiff of the bear. 

Amy brought over two mugs of tea a couple of moments later and set them down on the coffee table, sitting on the chair opposite Dele. 

“What’s going on?” 

Dele ended up telling her everything. He started at the very beginning, Harry’s initial stupid bet, the kissing and the arguing and the confessions, Eric’s home football pitch, having sex for the first time, about how Eric made Dele feel safe. How he felt like home. He told her about Eric’s texts and how the thought of Eric panicking and feeling shut out through all this made Dele feel bad, made him feel like he’d been a place of safety for Eric and had rescinded that safety without so much as a warning. 

Amy didn’t give away any clues as to what she was thinking, and when Dele finally stopped talking and picked up his tea she was quiet for a while longer, thinking, processing. 

“So - you feel bad because you’re scared he feels abandoned by you?” 

Dele nodded. 

“YOU feel like YOU’VE abandoned HIM after he was the one placing thousand pound bets on whether or not he could manipulate your emotions?” 

“Things changed, though. I think. I think he truly did fall for me, maybe.” 

“It’s more than likely he did, Dele, but - has no one told either of you how extremely unhealthy this all is?” 

Dele paused, not quite following. “The betting on each other and stuff? Well yeah, I know, but -“ 

“No, Dele - the way you’re relying on each other to give you what your parents aren’t? You keep calling him ‘home’, but - another person isn’t home. They shouldn’t be, not if you don’t want to be completely at their mercy for the rest of your life.” 

Dele gawped at Amy, stunned. He hadn’t thought of it like that. He hadn’t seen his love for Eric as anything but a good thing - he was convinced still that that was the case. “Being in love with someone isn’t a bad thing -“ 

“No, it’s not. Being in love with someone when you’re in love with yourself first, there’s nothing wrong with that. But, honestly? It sounds to me like you were using each other to fill holes in yourselves that you’d been ignoring. The whole thing was doomed to fail, whether he’d made a stupid bet or not.” 

“I uh... I don’t know what to say.” 

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Amy said, holding up a hand. “I don’t know, I don’t know him. I don’t know the situation. But I think that for a relationship to work you can’t be looking for puzzle pieces. You know? You need to be whole by yourself. I mean, forgive me if I’m crossing a line here, but - this is your home. You have some pretty good friends from what I’ve seen - I’ve never seen twenty year old lads carry their mates home paralytic before - you’ll have your degree, if you ever decide to do the work. You could have had us in the flat if you bothered to get to know us. That’s not a dig, by the way, I’m just saying. I don’t think you’re alone at all, Dele. I think you just think you are. And I don’t think the sexy football captain with his own shopping list of issues is the answer to it.” 

Dele was crying again, and Amy produced a packet of Kleenex from her pocket, handing them over to Dele. She didn’t say anything else as he processed what she’d said, his mind turning over her words. For a brief second he found himself lamenting that this was the type of advice his mum would’ve given him in another life, but he stopped those thoughts in their tracks. No more. No more pity party. He was getting the message now, even if it wasn’t coming from where he wished it was. He was still hearing the words.

“You know... I think you’re right,” Dele sniffled, handing her back the tissue packet. “Like... there was days he wouldn’t text me back. I felt like I couldn’t breathe when that happened.” 

She smiled sadly. “Sounds like you know yourself what I’ve said is true, Dele.” 

“How do you know all this?” Dele asked with a smile, hugging Lotso again. 

“I read a lot of fanfiction.” 

“A lot of what?” 

“I’ve had a lot of girlfriends,” she smiled, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I’ve picked up a few things along the road.” 

“Amy, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Please just stop stealing our food. And the rose jam Dele, that’s fucking expensive!” 

Dele laughed at that, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “You’re really cool, you know that?” 

“Of course I do,” she said, picking up Lotso and her blanket. “I need to go and get showered for class, but like, you know where to find me. And it’s going to be okay, by the way. You know that, don’t you?” 

“I think I’m starting to.” 

“Good,” she said, patting his arm one more time before she was gone. 

Dele washed the tea cups, because that was the least he could do, and went back to his room, his heart still heavy, but with a different outlook than before. 

— 

He woke up the next day and things were different. He still had that initial jolt between asleep and awake where he forgot that it had all happened, but this time he didn’t cry when he remembered. 

He picked up his phone and checked his notifications - the boys were planning an afternoon pub sesh before exams started the following week - when Dele spotted an email that made his heart rate pick up. 

David.Lammy.mp@parliament.uk   
Summer Internship   
Mr Alli, 

We really enjoyed your cover letter and would be delighted to invite you for a 30 minute interview at David’s office in Tottenham. We will be interviewing this weekend, on both Saturday and Sunday - please get in touch ASAP and let us know a time that would suit you. The successful candidate will hear back no longer than a week after the date of their interview. 

We look forward to hearing from you. 

Kate Munro   
Office Manager of David Lammy MP   
Kate.Munro@parliament.uk 

Dele read it three times before he was sure it wasn’t a prank. He replied that any time in the afternoon on either day would work for him, and, with a smile on his face, told the boys he’d definitely meet them for drinks. 

** 

Dele probably shouldn’t have said yes to the pub because when he was drunk all he felt was sadness. 

They’d bought two rounds of jaeger bombs to celebrate Dele’s interview, cheering and whooping, ruffling Dele’s hair and calling him prime minister. His spirits were high until the alcohol began to kick in and things began to take a turn for the worst, drunken Dele wanting nothing more than to be near Eric Dier. 

“Amy said I shouldn’t rely on him, right, but what if I just need to shag him one last time?” He slurred at Harry. “A goodbye dick appointment?” 

“That’s the bev talking,” Harry replied, waggling his finger in Dele’s face. “And who the fuck is Amy?” 

“Flatmate,” Dele replied. “Lovely girl.” 

“You planning to speak to the twat any time soon, Del?” Trippier piped up, sloshing his pint glass across the table. “Should tell him you want to talk and just right hook him.” 

Dele shook his head. “Still need to think things through.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Jesse interrupted, his own speech slurred, “All he does is fuckin cry. Can hear him in his room all day ‘n’ night, man, wah wah fuckin wah. I mean get a fuckin grip, it’s entirely self inflicted -“ 

“Shut up, Jess,” snapped Harry, eyeing Dele carefully. “He doesn’t need to hear that.” 

Dele felt that same guilt from before, the guilt that he was hurting Eric, that he was letting him down somehow. He tried to remember what Amy had said about codependency but it was hard when he was as drunk as this, and all he wanted to do was phone Eric and just hear his voice. 

“Might phone him,” he declared suddenly, fumbling for his phone in his pocket. 

“No you don’t,” Harry said, pulling the phone out of Dele’s hand. “If you want to phone him tomorrow when you’re sober, be my guest. But not right now.” 

Dele blinked at Harry a couple of times, and then nodded. “Can we get a kebab and go home?” 

“Of course we can,” Harry said, pulling Dele into a hug. “We can do whatever you want.” 

Dele walked arm in arm down the street with his best friends. They ordered kebabs and garlic mushrooms at their favourite kebab shop, which they ate on the curb outside, chattering with passers by and laughing with garlic sauce down their chins. 

They walked Dele home whilst singing an acappella rendition of Uptown Girl. Dele gave his keys to Harry to open the doors for them and he let himself be led up the stairs, all of them making a show of folding down his bed sheets and putting a glass of water beside his bed and tucking him in, sheets around his ears. 

“Goodnight Dele,” they all cooed, and Dele smiled back at them sleepily from his cocoon, eyes heavy, blinking slower and slower. 

“You guys are my family,” he said before he slipped under. “‘M not alone cos I’ve got you.” 

“You’ll always have us, Delboy. Sleep tight.” 

— 

Dele took the train to London at 9am on Saturday morning. He was wearing a shirt and dress trousers he’d borrowed from Harry and was only partially paranoid that he looked like a complete knob head. 

Amy had been coaching him for hours the night before, running through practice questions and writing down pointers for him on flash cards. Their other flat mate, the American guy who turned out to be named Sam, joined them after a while too, telling Dele he’d done an internship at the White House and knew exactly what they were looking for. 

Dele replayed their tips in his head on the train, sandwiched in at a table with a mum and two little girls. The kids kept on staring at him until he poked his tongue out and then they wouldn’t shut up, telling him about their friends at school and their favourite books. Their mum was embarrassed, shushing them and reminding them that Dele clearly had work to do. He grinned at her and said it was okay, he didn’t mind. He loved kids. 

They got off a few stops before Kings Cross, and he waved at them through the window as the train pulled out of the station, both of them jumping up and down and shaking their hands at him vigorously. Then he was on his own again, quietly anxious for his interview. 

He was trying not to feel inadequate, trying not to feel like an imposter. He was just as educated as anyone else applying, he reminded himself. He deserved to be there as much as the rest of them. 

Dele got off the train and stepped out into London with a swell of anticipation in his chest. There was something about being in the city that was heady and thrilling; it was like being in the centre of the universe - if something was going to happen, it’d happen here. 

Dele headed down the stairs to the underground with a spring in his step. He knew which lines he had to take to get to Tottenham, had been rehearsing them since he’d bought his train ticket, and he hopped on the tube just as the doors were closing, looking around at everyone with a smile bordering on manic. He knew he was breaking the unspoken rules of the underground, and yet he couldn’t help how happy it made him looking at all these people who were unified by their presence in this amazing city. It occurred to Dele that in a place like this, anyone could belong. 

He emerged in Tottenham thirty minutes before his interview and he used the maps feature on his phone to navigate his way to David’s constituency office. Dele took in his surroundings as he walked, marvelling at the brick work and the pavement, the trees and the lawns. He could see himself here, he thought. He could spend a summer here. He walked past a red Audi that made his heart clench, but he banished the thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t need to think about all that right now. 

Dele found the office easily enough and took a deep breath before he went inside, repeating the mantra in his head - I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this. 

** 

The interview went better than Dele could’ve ever hoped. 

It wasn’t David doing the questioning, but his staffer Kate and another called Matt. They were down to earth and put Dele right at ease, joking initially about the Champions League final in a way that broke the ice nicely. 

Dele found that his nerves vanished when he was sat down across the table from the pair, and his answers to their questions came easily. What did he think was the biggest issue facing women in the labour market? Lack of childcare and support for first time mothers. More sure starts needed. How would he encourage poc children into the world of politics? Representation, positive discrimination, emphasis on politics in school. 

They were impressed with every answer he gave, even when he wasn’t sure exactly what they were talking about and he had to bullshit a bit (opinions on the crisis in Yemen? Not armed intervention, anyway). 

After the interview, when Dele was shaking hands and heading out, David himself stuck his head round the door. 

“Are you the lad who got his heart broken by the Tory?” 

Dele laughed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

David laughed and came in proper, holding out a hand for Dele to shake. “Made me laugh out loud, that. I liked it. Interview go well?” 

“Think so,” Dele answered, looking over at Kate and Matt. “I really enjoyed it. I think I’d fit in here.” 

“We’ve got a couple more today and then a handful tomorrow, but we’ll definitely be in touch soon. It was nice to meet you, Dele.” 

“Thanks again,” he said, waving awkwardly as he left. 

He cursed himself for the stupid wave as he took out his phone, composing an email to Kate thanking her and Matt for their time as Amy had advised he do last night. With that sent, Dele exhaled a breath and looked around himself. 

It was a warm sunny day, the sky blue and the air still. Dele rolled his shirt sleeves up, letting his feet carry him down the street with no destination in mind. His train back wasn’t for a couple of hours and he wanted to soak in the city, the area. He walked aimlessly, jumping over cracks in the pavement, smiling at kids as they flew past on their bikes. 

Dele passed a corner shop and he popped in and bought a Twister, enjoying the tangy taste of cherry and lime, transporting him back to childhoods spent glued to the swings in the playground at the end of his street. 

Everyone here was so friendly, so welcoming - it seemed that the world was finally on his side. As he sat down on a bench and finished his ice lolly it occurred to Dele that maybe the world had always been on his side. He was healthy, he had loving friends, a place at a prestigious university. His interview had gone well today. He’d fallen in love with someone who, for the most part, had made him very happy. 

Dele pulled his phone out and opened up the messages from Eric again, reading over them although he knew every text from the last few days by heart. He wasn’t ready, not really, but he didn’t think he ever would be. This was just something he had to bite the bullet and do. 

Dele licked the wooden lolly stick clean and then typed out a text: meet me the Green Tree on Nicholson street at 7? With a deep breath, he hit send, and kept on walking. 

** 

Dele stood outside the pub at 7:15 with one arm outstretched against the brickwork and his head hanging between his shoulder blades, trying to stop his stomach from rolling harder than the Atlantic Ocean. 

Eric had agreed to meet him instantly, asking if Dele wouldn’t rather go for a drive or come over to the house or something. Dele politely declined - he didn’t trust himself to be alone with Eric. 

He went over and over things in his head on the train journey, practicing what he’d say again and again. He was pretty sure he had it down, and he clung to his speech as he pushed inside the pub door, looking around the room for Eric. 

The moment he saw him every word he’d practiced evaporated from his mind. Eric was sat in the corner with two pints in front of him, neither of them touched. He looked smaller somehow, like he was less himself than he’d ever been. Dele’s knees almost buckled on the way over. He wanted to turn and walk back out but he pushed himself on, forwards, no going back. Eric stood up when he saw Dele. His eyes were dark, his eyebrows pulled down sadly. He looked as rough as Dele felt. 

“Del,” Eric said, his voice crackly. “Thank you for seeing me.” 

Dele smiled sadly and sat down. “I just want to get it over with.” 

Eric had his sleeves pulled down over his hands and he tucked them between his thighs, clearly nervous. He cleared his throat. 

“Let me start by saying I meant what I said when we slept together. I meant it when I invited you to spend the summer with me. I meant all of it.” 

Dele looked at him passively, waiting. 

“After I found out about your bet, I told the boys. I was just annoyed and chatting shit. I was saying how fucking annoyed I was that I’d fucked things up with Emily and how she didn’t seem to care about me. I was talking rubbish about being unloveable. Stonesy bet me I couldn’t make you fall in love with me. He said if I could do that, cos you clearly hated me, then it would be obvious the problem was Emily’s and not mine.” He paused and took a sip of beer, wetting his throat and composing himself. “I thought you were a cold bastard, Dele. We all thought you were a dick head, honestly, but the more time I spent with you, fuck - being with you was this breath of fresh air. You weren’t licking up my arse like everyone else, you didn’t care who my family was or whether I was captain of the football team. I told you stuff cos I wanted to. Telling you things I couldn’t tell anyone else made me feel like I could breathe for the first time in months. They knew, pretty quickly - the boys knew I felt differently about you. I was... embarrassed. I’d talked this big game about how terrible you were and how I could manipulate you and then you were the one who’d made me fall. They thought I was trying to back out of the bet because I thought I was going to lose, they wouldn’t fucking listen to me. I knew I loved you after the pens and I was fucking terrified to say it incase you didn’t say it back, but also if you did say it back, cos then it’d have been all about the stupid bet. The day before I took you home, I told them - I said I want out, you can have the two grand, I don’t want to be part of it anymore, and they said -“ 

“That was like, two weeks ago.” 

“I know, and I regret waiting so long, and I’m sorry. I can’t - I don’t have any other excuses other than I was being a coward, Dele. They got mad at me, they said they didn’t recognise me anymore. They said I’d changed and maybe I wasn’t fit to lead the team. I took you away from here because I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe with it all around me and I was panicking, I was handling it all wrong. I was serious about Mallorca -“ 

“I won’t be coming to Mallorca.” 

Eric’s face crumpled and he took a gulp of beer, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Okay. Uh - okay. When I told you I loved you, when we were having sex, I didn’t mean for it to come out. I don’t regret it, I just wasn’t planning it. You said it back and Del, I was so fucking happy. I was so happy I wasn’t thinking - you, the league, I wasn’t thinking about how John was there and the bet existed and how fragile things were.” He was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks in fat stripes. “Hurting you has killed me. Being with you feels like home, Del. You make me feel like I’m -“ 

“That’s just it,” Dele interrupted, wiping at the corner of his own eyes. “That’s the problem. Look at us, god, what have we been doing? None of this was healthy. I believe you, don’t get me wrong. I understand things ran away from you. I want to - I want things to be good between us so, so bad. But don’t you see? We can’t be happy like this.” 

“What? We can’t - I won’t be happy without you,” Eric said, eyebrows low. “What are you saying right now? I’d be happy. I’d be plenty -“ 

“What you gonna tell your dad? Are we going to sneak around in Mallorca and pretend we aren’t together? Are we going to get married in ten years when you’re a hedge fund manager and I work for the civil service and we’re bored and miserable and resentful because we used each other as band aids for problems we were too scared to confront?” 

“I’m not following you? Dele? What are you talking about?” 

“I mean, you’re miserable, Eric. You hate what you study. You’re scared of your dad. You’re happiest on the pitch, happiest when you’re the life and soul of the party. I want you to understand that I’m doing this because I love you. I want you to -“ 

“No,” Eric said, sitting up straight. “What? No. I said I’m sorry, I explained, Dele -“ 

“This isn’t about the bet,” Dele said exasperatedly. “God, it’s about us. It’s about me finding out that home isn’t a place or a person, it’s a feeling, and I need to find it within myself! And you, Eric, for the love of god, you need to tell your dad who you want to be. You need to tell yourself who you want to be! You’re still calling yourself straight, for fucks sake.”

“I can - what, you want me to say I’m bi? I’m bisexual, then, Del, please -“ 

“You aren’t getting it,” Dele said sadly, putting his hand on Eric’s forearm. “I don’t want to force you out of the closet. I want you to be ready. I want you to be so okay with yourself that you’re ready for me. I want to be so okay with myself I’m ready for you.” 

“Please don’t break up with me,” Eric pleaded, looking at Dele desperately. “You’re breaking my fucking heart right now. This is killing me.” 

“I’m breaking my own heart,” Dele replied. “This - you think it wouldn’t be easier for me to just, what, fall into your arms? Go home with you, kiss you, you think I’ve not been waking up in the middle of the night feeling sick because you aren’t there? You think this doesn’t hurt me?!” Dele wiped at his nose and folded his arms, sitting back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Please don’t leave me,” Eric said, sobbing. “Please.” 

“Don’t make it harder,” Dele said, tears falling thick and fast, voice in his head screaming take him back take him back take him back. “Spend the summer working things out, right, and then we’ll see -“ 

“Dele -“ 

“I’m going to go, okay,” Dele got up, scrubbing at his eyes. “I’m going to -“ 

“I love you,” Eric wept, looking up at him with impossibly large eyes. “I love you so bad.” 

Dele bit down on his lip, employing every last shred of willpower to walk away, keep moving, to not go back. 

“I can’t be without you,” Eric choked, one last attempt. 

“I can’t be with you till you can,” was all Dele said in response. He watched as Eric’s heart shattered in his chest, and then he was gone. 

In the cool evening air Dele’s thoughts rushed at him at once, overwhelming and dizzying. He took two steps down the street and then turned back towards the pub, put hand on the door - and then he stopped himself. No. This was for the best. 

This was what he had to do. 

Dele let out a howl at the sky, one that made people across the street turn and stare at him. He let himself feel the pain, he let the cry rip out of him, and then he gave himself a shake and took off down the pavement. 

** 

Harry opened the door to Dele crying hysterically but still smiling somehow, his face twisted in a bizarre picture of sad happiness. 

“Del?! What the fuck? Did the interview go badly?!” 

Dele shook his head, biting down on his lip and pressing a sob into Harry’s neck, falling into his arms. Harry held him, one hand on the back of his head, one hand moving up and down his back. 

“I’ve got you,” Harry soothed. “I’m here. You’re not alone.” 

And Dele knew, then, that he never had been. And it was all going to be okay. 

 

————— 

 

**September**

Harry had been talking about this party for days. 

Generally they liked to stay away from Freshers week, collectively feeling that it was above them. They preferred not to go out at all, actually, smoking weed in someone’s room and posting Instagram stories looking bored and aloof, but Harry was really keen on this one. 

“It’s going to be the party of the summer, guys, honestly. Half the uni will be there. There’s nothing to be gained in sitting at home wanking each other off, is there?” He had said to them the day before, calling through from the kitchen of their new shared flat. “Is there?!” 

“What you’re saying, Harry, is that someone you want to shag is going to be there?” Trippier responded, not looking away from his phone. 

“Maybe,” Harry shouted back. “So don’t fucking cock block me, I’ll never forgive any of you.” 

Dele laughed from where he was leaning out the window, breathing in the smell of the air after a heavy spell of rain. “We should go, boys. Harry’s not had a shag all summer, he deserves this.” 

That was how Dele found himself crammed into this packed house, some kind of europop thumping in his ears. Jesse agreed to meet them later after his dinner with Marcus so it was just Tripps, Harry and Dele, the three of them walking into the party with an air of superiority. They were the life and soul of the party and they fucking knew it. 

Dele let himself be led into the kitchen, clapping hands with people he hadn’t seen all summer, kissing August tanned girls on the cheeks. He felt a new sense of calm as he moved through the house, one he’d never had at parties before - he didn’t feel any pressure to perform, to be larger than life. He was content just to be as he was. 

They grabbed a bottle opener and knocked the necks of their beers together. “To another year of being the coolest fuckers around,” Harry toasted, and Dele rolled his eyes with a fond grin on his face. 

They moved out into the back garden so that Harry and Tripps could smoke. Harry nudged Dele once his cigarette was lit, nodding towards the house. “Reckon he’ll show up?” 

Dele looked down at the ground and shrugged. “Dunno, honestly.” 

“You didn’t speak a word to him all summer?” 

Dele shook his head. “Nope. Saw a photo of him on Rashy’s story at the start of the holidays. Think he was growing a beard.” 

“Ew,” Harry grinned. “How fucking ugly.” 

Dele laughed quietly, taking a swig of beer and watching Tripps attempt to speak to a group of girls who had just spilled out onto the patio in tiny dresses. Dele had thought of Eric every single day over the summer, almost phoned him once or twice, but in the end they’d kept their distance. Whether they saw each other again or not, Dele knew in his heart of hearts that he’d done the right thing. 

They moved back inside and went their separate ways as tended to happen at house parties. Dele was in the living room, quietly buzzed and leaning against the fireplace when he was accosted by the twinky guy from his course last year - Winksy, he introduced himself as - and Dele was listening amusedly as he recounted his summer job as a life guard at Tooting Lido.

“Honestly - twice a week kids shat in the pool. There comes a point, and don’t tell anyone this, but there comes a point we’d just scoop it out without draining the pool. We’d be running a loss if we did it every time!” 

Dele laughed, a proper laugh, and it made Winksy’s eyes light up. 

“What did you say you did over the holidays, Dele?” 

“Interned for an MP,” Dele said, grinning. “MP for Tottenham. You’re a spurs fan, ain’t you?” 

“Massive one, mate. That must’ve been decent as fuck?” 

“So good,” Dele said, shaking his head. “Like, best thing I’ve ever done. Living in London, too, like obviously you’ll know this being from there yourself, but it’s so good. Such a different lifestyle, know what I mean? And the job was just such an eye opener. I’ve been offered a permanent position when I graduate,” he said proudly, puffing his chest out. “Lammy’s sound as fuck.” 

“Aw wow, that’s so decent,” Harry said, looking at Dele in wonder. “You must be buzzing with that.” 

“I am,” Dele said. “Proper happy.” 

“Don’t turn around, right,” Harry said suddenly, peering over Dele’s shoulder. “But that guy’s been staring at me for ages. It’s quite weird.” 

Dele turned around instantly, of course, much to Harry’s chagrin. There, at the other side of the room, beer in hand, was just the person Dele wondered if he’d be seeing that evening. 

Eric looked different. He’d shaved his head down to the stubble for starters, and had grown a full but well groomed beard. He looked bigger, like he’d been working out, and he was indeed staring in their direction intently. 

“What’s he staring at me for?” Winksy hissed in Dele’s ear. “Do you think he’s looking for a fight? Looks quite rough.” 

“He’s not looking at you,” Dele replied, mouth quirking into a half grin. 

“Fuck, he’s coming over,” Winksy squeaked. “Fuck. What do I -“ 

“Hello, fellas.” 

Eric was stood right next to them both, eyes locked on Dele’s. Dele felt every nerve ending in his body come online, his heart picking up speed. Eric looked very, very good. 

“I’m Harry Winks,” supplied Winksy, holding a hand out for Eric to shake. “This is Dele.” 

Eric dragged his eyes away from Dele’s to look down at Harry. “Uh - hi?” 

“We do sociology and politics,” Harry said, stuffing the neglected hand in his pocket. “What do you do?” 

Eric licked his bottom lip and looked back at Dele. “I do sport science, actually. Transferred from economics at the end of last year.” 

Dele felt heat lick up his throat, a proper smile coming over his face. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Eric said, mouth turning up in an imitation of the smile that Dele was wearing. “Gonna be a footie coach, I reckon.” 

“Dele said he likes football!” Harry said, nodding at Dele. “Nice. I like it too, obviously. Spurs fan myself. Hey, I bet you two would get on so well.” 

Dele was grinning so widely his eyes were crinkling, he could feel it. He took a swig of his beer and nodded, glancing quickly down at Winksy. Eric huffed out a little laugh and raised his eyebrows at Dele. 

“I reckon that’s a bet you’d definitely win, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this story. I know I’ve been very bad at replying to your comments, but please know that they make my day, they make me very happy, and I love you with all my heart. Thank you for letting me do this one <3333


	7. Epilogue

Dele had been holding out on Eric for close to three months now, and Eric’s balls were fucking blue. 

He deserved it, which was the worst of it. Dele was being cautious on purpose, spooked after the whole thing before the summer, and Eric knew he had to be patient and take whatever Dele was willing to give him. 

What he was willing to give had started out as some very chaste coffee dates, a bit of intermittent texting, a couple of cinema trips. Dele was obsessed with Eric’s new buzz cut and would constantly run his finger tips over it, but that was about all the contact they had for the first few weeks. Eric was just thrilled Dele was giving him a second chance. 

It got harder to keep his hands to himself when Dele started kissing him again, nine times out of ten leaving Eric hard and hot and frustrated by the time Dele left him, getting up with pink cheeks and chirpily calling his goodbyes, Eric panting on his bed or on the sofa or behind the wheel of his car. Cold showers became his best friend. 

It would’ve been half the battle if it wasn’t clear that Dele was suffering too. He was starting to look physically pained when he felt Eric’s dick through his clothes, his hands scrabbling against Eric’s back when he sucked down on Dele’s neck, hips moving of their own accord until he got up and put space between them, having the audacity to shoot Eric daggers like it was Eric who was trying to teach a lesson using his dick. 

Eventually it became clear that Dele was no longer trying to prove a point, but simply being a little bastard for the sake of it. He continually sent Eric videos of him wanking on snapchat, made a show of being drunk and slutty when they went out with their friends, said dirty filthy things in Eric’s ear moments before he was due to go on the pitch and play. 

But still, Eric couldn’t say anything. He was trying to be on his best behaviour, after all. 

Dele came over to watch the new episode of Peaky Blinders and Eric could tell from the moment he slid through the front door what kind of mood he was in. He was wearing joggers slung low on his hips, the ankles pulled up embarrassingly high over white training socks, a big T-shirt that Eric thought probably belonged to him drooping down to expose a collar bone. Eric watched him with a raised brow as he toed off his shoes and slid his hand up under his shirt, rubbing his fingers up and down his stomach nonchalantly, well aware of the flash of skin he was revealing. 

Eric stared him down, willing him to blink first. Willing him to just give Eric the green light to fucking do something to him, anything. Instead he yawned, turning and padding into the living room with an infuriating sway of his hips. Eric followed him and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa with a sigh. 

He’d asked Marcus and Harry to go out for the night, and they’d happily obliged. It was just Eric and Dele, three feet apart on the sofa, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Ten minutes into the show Dele picked up the remote from between them and hit pause, sliding onto Eric’s lap with as much grace as an elephant, sending the air right out of Eric’s lungs. 

“Just want a quick kiss,” he said, leaning down and kissing Eric’s mouth softly like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. “Did you have garlic bread for dinner again?” 

Eric rolled his eyes and licked into Dele’s mouth more forcefully, trying and failing to set the pace. Dele put one hand on Eric’s chest and pushed him back against the sofa cushions, just enough that all Eric could do was take what Dele felt like leaning in and giving him. He was driving Eric nuts. 

Dele got up and sat back down again, played the show. Eric chewed on his nails and waited, wound tight, wanting to just - they had the fucking house to themselves! They both wanted this! Dele was - Eric looked around, and Dele was sitting on the arm of the chair, rolling his hips down onto it, face on the TV innocently, and that was it. Eric had had enough. 

He stood up suddenly and without warning and grabbed Dele, hauling him over his shoulder. Dele squealed and kicked his legs, laughing through his indignant cries of “put me down!” 

Eric carried him up the stairs and dropped Dele on his bed, kicking his door closed behind him and observing him with his hands on his hips. 

“How do you want it?” 

“How do I want what, Diet?” Dele snapped sarcastically. 

“Stop being fucking annoying, will you?” 

“Fine,” Dele sighed dramatically, rolling onto his front and propping himself up against the pillows, waving his arse in the air. “Eat me out like one of your slutty groupies.” 

“We don’t have groupies,” Eric said, shaking his head but climbing onto the bed anyway. “And you’re the sluttiest person I’ve ever been with, hands down.” 

“Hardly a slut,” Dele said. “Haven’t had a shag in months.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” Eric said, hands brushing the length of Dele’s thighs, up to his arse cheeks, and squeezing. “Who’s the one that’s been withholding?” 

“You have to work to get into my pants,” Dele said, pushing back into Eric’s hands. “You have to...” 

His words petered off as Eric put his fingers in the waist band of Dele’s joggers and pulled, sliding them down and off. Eric kissed the back of Dele’s thighs, licked at the thin bones on the back of his knees. He bit hard on the skin where the leg of Dele’s boxers ended. Dele whimpered when Eric dragged his thumb down the crease of Dele’s butt, tantalisingly close but held back by the barrier of cotton. 

“Maybe I’ll hold out on you for three months?” Eric said, ghosting his fingers down the inside of Dele’s thighs. “Maybe we should go for six.” 

“Don’t push your fucking luck,” Dele sighed into the pillows, voice muffled. “I’ll get up and walk out right now.” 

Eric put his hand between Dele’s legs and felt at his dick, hard and straining against his underwear. “No you won’t,” he laughed, moving to ghost over his balls. “You wouldn’t walk out of here if bombs started raining down outside.” 

“Morbid image, that, Diet,” Dele said. “Bit distasteful. Not doing anything to set the - fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Eric had pulled his pants down and licked a stripe over his hole, slick with spit. He pulled back and bit down on the fleshy part of Dele’s cheek, dragging his teeth against the skin, pleased by the way Dele’s breathing deepened, his hips pushing back impossibly close. Eric leaned in and licked at him again, wiggling his tongue back and forth, groaning against Dele’s hole with how much he was turning himself on. 

“You like being ate out?” Eric said, voice rumbly and low. “Got no shame, do you?” Eric reached between Dele’s legs again and wrapped his hand loosely around the head of Dele’s dick, thumbing over the slit. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet,” he added, licking him again, quietly astonished that he was finding this whole thing so sexy. 

Eric put his hands on Dele’s hips and flipped him over expertly onto his back. Dele blinked up at him breathlessly, and Eric sat back and looked over him with his bottom lip between his teeth - legs open, dark smears of precome all over the hem of his grey T-shirt, cock hard and curving upwards. Lips parted, pupils blown. He was going to be the cause of Eric’s death. 

Eric leaned in and kissed him gently for a little while, cooling things down a bit. He wanted this to last. He wanted to take his time. He sat back again after a few moments and pulled his own shirt off, leaning across the bed to grab the bottle of lube he’d stashed under it. 

“Can I finger you?” 

“Does the pope drink wine?” 

Eric drizzled some lube onto his fingers, not bothering to heat it up before he started pushing in. Dele was already so wet from Eric’s mouth that it was effortless, and Eric had to bite his tongue from making a comment about how easy Dele was. He’d spent his whole summer at logger heads with his dad, standing his ground and digging his heels in over the football thing. He’d been miserable for the most part, lonely and bored and actively avoiding the eyes of pretty sun kissed girls who stared at him wherever he went, and every single second of it was worth it for the way Dele looked right now. 

Eric removed his fingers when Dele’s eyes flickered closed and his eyebrows began to lower. Dele whined at the loss of contact, sitting up on his elbows and watching as Eric pulled off his shorts, tugging on his dick a couple of times before ripping open a condom and rolling it on. 

Dele removed his shirt and scooted out of the middle of the bed, pulling at Eric’s forearms and making him lie back in the space he’d just vacated. Eric couldn’t help but smile and it made Dele scowl. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I’m not,” Eric said, shaking his head. “You’re just so cute.” 

“Fuck off,” Dele huffed, throwing one of his ridiculously long legs over Eric’s torso and picking up his dick, lining it up and looking Eric dead in the eyes. “All good?” 

“Be my guest,” Eric nodded, putting his hands behind his head. 

Dele began to sink down and Eric groaned, the tight heat so fucking good, so overwhelmingly good. He took it all the way, and Eric was so fucking impressed, so mesmerised, so in love. Dele’s eyes were closed as he acclimatised, breathing out through his nose in short bursts. 

“Y’okay?” 

“Just wish you had a bigger dick,” Dele answered, and Eric laughed. He didn’t miss the way the sound of his laughter made Dele’s cock twitch. 

Dele started moving with no help from Eric, strong enough that he didn’t need any assistance, building up a good rhythm that had both of them moaning into the quiet room repeatedly. After a while Eric propped himself up on his right arm and kissed Dele’s mouth, chest to chest, his spare hand sneaking between their bodies and jacking Dele off. 

Eric tilted his head and sucked at Dele’s neck, hand moving quickly. Dele tipped forward seemingly unthinkingly, making Eric’s arm strain with the weight of him. Dele was no longer moving, just melting forward into the rhythm of Eric’s fist. Eric lay down again, hand off Dele’s dick, and began thrusting up into him, satisfied that the press of their torsos would give Dele enough friction to get off. 

“Fuck me,” Dele was saying into Eric’s collar bone, barely lucid. “Fuck me harder, harder, harder, please.” 

Eric dug his heels into the mattress and did just that, clutching so hard to the meat of Dele’s arse that he was sure there would be bruises. He knew Dele was coming at first because he clenched down impossibly hard around Eric’s dick and then secondly because he felt hot come stripe up his chest, so fucking much of it, enough that Eric would think Dele hadn’t even had so much as a wank for the last three months. 

Dele slumped against Eric with a satisfied sigh, all of his weight pressing Eric into the mattress. “Love you,” he said sleepily, and it was enough to tip Eric over the edge, hips stilling as he spilled into the condom. 

“Love you more,” Eric replied after a beat, eyelids closing against his will. “But you knew that.” 

**

Eric woke up and his room was dark. Dele was still on top of him, chest rising and falling slowly. Eric was still inside Dele, and he would’ve been turned on by the fact if he couldn’t feel his own cold come all over his dick, the condom tight and irritating. Eric grimaced and pulled out slowly, finding that removing the condom was very difficult with a full grown man on top of him. 

Dele stirred and grumbled sleepily, pushing his face into Eric’s chest. “Rude,” he mumbled. 

“Feels minging,” Eric whispered, patting Dele’s back. “It’s not personal.” 

Dele rolled off him and Eric peeled off the condom, getting up and padding to the bathroom. The house was in darkness so he didn’t bother about being caught naked. He did a quick pee and then came back to the bedroom with a wet washcloth, moving it over his own abs and then kneeling and scrubbing at the come on Dele’s stomach. 

Dele was already asleep again by the time Eric got back from dumping the cloth and he smiled fondly, pulling the bed sheets up over his waist. Eric got into bed and closed his eyes, exhaling happily with a big smile on his face. It was worth the wait, when all was said and done. 

Dele would always be worth the wait.


End file.
